MIDDLE-EARTH FICTION
by Tarantinofan2517
Summary: This is my first fan-fiction! A crossover between one of the most iconic franchises of all time (Lord of the Rings) and one one of the most iconic movies of all time (Pulp Fiction). Beloved characters (Frodo, Sam, Aragorn etc...) in a classic Tarantino plot line. Enjoy, in five chapters!


Prologue: The Prancing Pony Inn

It was a perfectly still and beautiful morning in the village of Brie. Traders bustled and haggled in the market. Stock was driven through town mooing, squealing or clucking. Hobbits, dwarves and even a few elves came through town, going about their regular business. Everyone was doing something. Everywhere was crammed with busy townspeople.

One place in particular was extremely busy that morning: the Inn of the Prancing Pony.

The Prancing Pony was the main Inn or tavern in Brie. Whoever came through Brie was certain to rest for a night or more in the Inn. The Prancing Pony was famous throughout the Shire. Its owner was friendly and obliging (a man by the name of Baliman Butterbur), its ale was good, its beds were not too infested and its prices were reasonable.

On this particular morning, The Pony was in the middle of the normal swing of things: hungry and weary travelers coming through Brie and stopping off at The Prancing Pony for breakfast! Butterbur had been in the kitchen all morning, cooking up a storm of scrambled eggs, bacon, fried eggs, sausages, fried tomatoes, chips, black pudding, grilled mushrooms, toast and muffins. All the customers were tucking in with relish! The Inn was filled, mainly with men and women but there were a few dwarves and several hobbits. Many smoked, many talked, many just sat and drank ale, but everything appeared to be as normal.

Yes, everything appeared to be normal, but that was often the case in Middle-Earth; things might seem normal for a while, but nothing could be further from the truth. On this fateful morning in the Shire, this was the case with two of Butterbur's customers. At a table near the front door sat a young woman, with long, golden hair, and across from her sat a young hobbit with brown, short, curly hair. They talked, laughed and ate hearty breakfasts. They were clearly, a couple in love! Everything was going well until, all of a sudden, the hobbit lowered his voice and leaned in closer to the young woman.

"Forget it girl! It's just too dangerous!"

The Hobbit had a look of determination on his face but the girl was not to be put off and leaned towards him.

"You always say that!"

"I know but this time I'm actually through with it for good!"

"You always say that too and you mean it, until we do it again!"

"I know what I always say, but this time I'm sticking with my first instinct".

The girl leaned back leisurely, as the hobbit began stating his theories about their current situation.

"I mean, nowadays, even robbing a blacksmith's is juts as dangerous as robbing a gold or silver mine. You get these shop owner's who've owned the joint since the First Age and they have a ruddy great shotgun, right behind the counter. No, you try and stick up one of those places and you get your head blown off!"

The girl was listening, but definitely uninterested over the hobbit's monologue. She sat back, sighed, and began curling her toes playfully as the hobbit continued.

"You know, I heard a funny story about a wizard named Radagast who once wanted to rob a gold mine. So here's what he does: he walks into the joint carrying nothing but his wand, and the mine owners just let him take everything, without a quibble! Know why? Because he's a wizard, and they know that if he wanted to, he could use that wand to fry the lot of them!"

The girl suddenly sat up, interested and curious.

"So what, you saying we should become wizards?"

The hobbit leaned back, chuckling to himself.

"Of course not, but you're missing the point of the story and the point is: people who fear the unexpected are more likely to back down and give you what you want! And it's the same with these shops, because blacksmith's, butcher's and mining companies are expecting you to come trying to rob them, because it's what they're used to. Inn's on the other hand, you catch them with their pants down! They're not expecting trouble, their expecting hungry pigs coming in off the road for breakfast. So, you come in sticking your guns in the customer's faces and the Inn keeper will give you whatever you want because he just wants to get you out of his joint before you start plugging his customers!"

The girl leaned back, this time impressed.

"Say, that's pretty smart thinking there".

The hobbit smiled appreciatively.

"Thank you".

"You could probably cut down on the hero factor in an Inn like this!"

The hobbit leaned forward again.

"Exactly! These people are usually fresh in off the road; they're tired and hungry. So when you come over and point your gun at them, they lose all courage and just give you their money purses so you'll leave them alone. Because, they're not expecting you!"

The hobbit was finished, he leaned back, satisfied. The woman however, leaned forward, with a devilish yet sexy glint in her eye.

"I'm up for it, let's do it! Right here, right now!"

The hobbit smiled.

"Alright then, same as last time ok? I'll take the purses, you handle the customers ok?"

The girl bit her lip playfully, and nodded, then winked at the hobbit. He smiled back at her and climbed up on top of the table. Then, taking her by the shoulders, he kissed her passionately. The hobbit then climbed back down to sit on his stool. Out of his satchel, he removed, two shiny, Smith and Wesson pistols. He placed one in front of the girl and the other, in front of himself. Finally, the couple looked into each other's eyes amorously. They were certainly adrenaline junkies, but knew that there was no going back when they held up the Inn. The girl looked to the hobbit.

"I love you Merry!"

The hobbit Merry looked back to her.

"And I love you Éowyn!"

Merry felt a sudden rush of courage, he grabbed his pistol and climbed back on top of the table yelling:

"Everyone remain calm this is a robbery!"

Éowyn the girl, took hold of her pistol, got up from the table and yelled at the top of her lungs:

"Any of you orkish pigs move; and I'll execute every ring-stealing last one of you!"

This normal morning in Brie had gone terribly, terribly wrong! However, what many in that Inn and thousands across Middle-Earth did not know was that earlier that morning, two young hobbits had been embarking on a similarly destructive journey in Middle-Earth.

In the forest outside Isengard, there was a small carriage. This carriage was pulled by a large brown pony, and driven by two, young hobbits. One hobbit was thin of face, with dark, brown, curly hair, whereas, the other hobbit had a slightly chubby face with short, curly, ginger hair. The hobbits both wore black tunics with silver buttons. The ginger hobbit was named Samwise Gamgee (or Sam for short) and sat driving the coach. Next to him, sat his mate named Frodo Baggins. They were clearly good friends, but Samwise had a serious question on his mind. He leaned over to Frodo.

"So, tell me again about the mushrooms".

"Ok, so what do you want to know?"

"Mushrooms are legal to use in Rivendell right?"

"Yeah mushrooms are legal but they're not a hundred percent legal. I mean you can't just walk into a banquet hall, pull out your pipe, burn the 'shrooms and start puffing away. I mean they want you to smoke them in your hobbit hole or certain designated areas ok?"

"So, those are the mushrooms?"

"Ok, so it breaks down like this ok? It's legal to buy mushrooms, it's legal to own mushrooms and if you're the owner of such mushrooms, it's legal to sell them. It's legal to carry them, but that doesn't matter, because listen to this: if a Galadhrim in Rivendell stops you, it's illegal for them to search you! That's a privilege the Galadhrims in Rivendell don't have!"

Sam found this incredible revelation hilarious and leaned back, chuckling to himself as the pony continued to pull the carriage along the road to Isengard.

"Oh man! I'm going! That's all there is to it, I'm flipping going!"

"I know babe! You'd love it the most!"

Frodo suddenly paused.

"But you know what the funniest thing about Rivendell is?"

"What?"

"The little differences. I mean they've got the same tripe we've got in Hobbiton but over there it's just a little different".

This made Sam sit up, he was curious as to what his chum might mean.

"Example?"

"Ok, well in Rivendell you can buy a pint of ale, and I don't mean like, a few drips in a scotch glass, I'm talking about a pint of ale! And in Rivendell, you can get served a second breakfast in any banquet hall, but do you know what they call a normal, Middle-Earth, pint of ale, in Rivendell?"

"They don't call it a 'pint of ale'?"

"No, they speak Elvish over there, they wouldn't know what on earth a 'pint of ale' is!"

"So what do they call it?"

"They call it 'Elvish foam'!"

"Elvish foam?"

This amused Samwise beyond belief and he leaned back laughing out loud to himself intensely. Frodo joined in and the two friends laughed for what seemed like an age, until suddenly, the pony halted. This made the two friends stop laughing, and look up at their surroundings; they had arrived in Isengard! The huge black tower loomed in front of them, sinister and ominous, and as the two hobbits parked the carriage, a flock of ravens, flew overhead.

The two hobbits opened up a small chest in the back of the carriage and lifted out the contents: two, shiny, chrome, forty-five automatic pistols. Both hobbits inspected the pistols, and then slotted their ammo clips into the breaches. There were two, loud, metallic snaps, as they loaded their handguns. Sam then, turned to Frodo.

"We should have Mithril for this kind of deal!"

"How many guys have we got up there?"

"Including our guy? Three or four, I think".

This unsettled Frodo, who sighed and said to himself:

"We should have Mithril!"

The hobbits made their way round to the front door of the Isengard tower and let themselves in. They were here on a professional job, to get back the stolen possession of their boss, and their boss was one of the most powerful crime lords in Rivendell, and probably Middle-Earth: Elrond. Neither hobbit knew what Elrond's possession exactly was, but both were getting paid well to retrieve it at any and all costs.

They were prepared for trouble, but as they marched up the stairs to Isengard tower's top floor, they talked to try and keep their spirit's up. However, Frodo had a few serious questions for his mate.

"Do you know Elrond's wife?"

"Yeah, met her once or twice".

"What's her name?"

"Galadriel, I think."

"So how did she and Elrond meet?"

"I don't know, the way most Elves meet. She used to be a play-actress I think".

"Really?"

"Yeah, but it didn't work out because they scrapped the show after the first showing".

"How come?"

"Well the way it goes is: they show a play for one night and if people like it, they show it for it's full term, but if people don't like the play, they stop showing it right there and then. Galadriel was in one of the play's that got scrapped!"

The hobbits had reached the floor that was two floors below the chamber they were going to, and it was at this moment that Samwise changed the conversation topic.

"You know Lord Celeborn, from the Lothlórien firm?"

"Yeah, I've heard of him, why?"

"Well, Elrond left Galadriel with him for the night and the word is, he gave her a foot massage. Next thing is, two weeks later Elrond finds out and here's what he does: he has two Galadhrim's go over to Celeborn's place, take him, and throw his arse over a waterfall! Celeborn fell about thirty feet!"

Frodo was shocked by this violent news as they continued to walk up to the top.

"That's nasty, still, you play with a firedrake, and you get burned!"

Sam was slightly shocked by his friend's unsympathetic response.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that Celeborn should have known better than to give Elrond's new bride a foot massage".

"You don't think Elrond overreacted?"

"I'm saying Celeborn probably didn't expect Elrond to take such drastic measures but he must have expected some sort of reaction! He laid his hands on Elrond's wife in a familiar way, is it as bad as making the beast with two backs with her? No, but it's in the same region!"

This horrified Samwise who, putting his arm across Frodo's path, stopped him in the hallway of the tower's next floor.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, time-out! Giving a girl a foot massage and putting her up against a wall aren't in the same region, they're not even in the same country, a foot massage is nothing!"

"I'm telling you, it's in the same region!"

"There's no region! Now look, may be your method of massage differs from mine but when I give a foot massage, it doesn't mean tripe!"

"Have you ever given a she-Elf a foot massage?"

"Hey, I've given more people than she-elves foot massages. I've given them to women, hobbit girls and dwarf girls too! Got my technique and everything".

Frodo realized that he could now make fun of Sam as he teased:

"Have you ever given a male hobbit a foot massage?"

Sam stared daggers back at Frodo. He realized that he had been played. In a dejected tone, he replied:

"Hey man you better back off, because I'm getting mad now!"

Frodo chuckled to himself merrily, seeing how much he was irritating his partner. Sam kept his head down, and walked on up the stairs until both hobbits had reached the top floor. The chamber door was at the end of the hall but before Frodo could walk on, Sam had stopped him again.

"Now look, just because I've never given a male Middle-Earther a foot massage, that doesn't make what Elrond did right! What he did to Celeborn was messed up! If Elrond or anyone else tried to pull that on me, they'd better paralyze my arse because I'd kill them!"

"I'm not saying it's right, but you're saying a foot massage doesn't mean anything and I'm saying it does! I've given a million foot massages to a million female hobbits and they all meant something. They know it and we know it, Elrond knew it, Galadriel knew it, and Celeborn should've known better than to do it! What was he thinking, touching up Elrond's new bride's foot anyway?"

Samwise finally understood what his mate was saying and replied:

"It's an interesting thought, anyway, why all these questions about the big man's wife?"

"Elrond's leaving next week for business in Gondor and he wants me to take care of his wife."

For a second, Samwise looked in horror to his chum, making a gun out of his fingers and pointing it to his temple. Frodo saw what he meant and shook his head.

"No, nothing like that! He wants me to take her out and show her a good time".

"What do you mean?"

"You know like when you take your best friend's wife out to a banquet while he's away? That's what Elrond's paying me to do next week. I just want to know a bit about her before I meet her".

Samwise shook his head to himself, mumbling:

"She-elf's going to get more hobbit's killed!"

"What?"

"Nothing, it's time to go along to the chamber, let's get into character!"

The pair finally stopped outside the chamber door. They looked at each other knowingly and then, finally, Sam stretched out his arm, and knocked hard on the chamber door. There was a loud metal click as the door began to open. Inside there were three people. On a sofa sat a large, dark, Uruk-Hai. In the middle of the room at a table, sat a sickly-looking cave goblin, and opening the door was Elrond's 'man on the inside', a deathly pale human with slightly yellowish skin, who went by the name of Grima Wormtongue. As he opened the door, Sam and Frodo stepped inside the large chamber, as Grima closed the door behind them. It was a large chamber with black, polished marble floors and walls. There was another door leading to another chamber on the left side of the room. Sam, almost immediately took charge of the situation.

"Hey wargs! How you orcs doing'?"

It was a greeting meant to inspire confidence, but really, it only made the meeting tenser. The Uruk-Hai began to sit up when Sam wondered over and gestured for him to stay where he was.

"Hey man! Keep relaxing ok?"

The Uruk-Hai sat back. Sam then wondered over to the goblin's table. Frodo, decided to walk over to the far side of the room. This was for two reasons: one) he was supposed to be looking for a chest containing Elrond's possession and two) if things went bad, he could cover Samwise better from there.

Sam looked down at the goblin's table. There was a large beaker of homemade ale with several mugs next to it. Next to that, there was a small plate containing several pieces of what appeared to be meat, but what could easily have been 'manfelsh'. Sam smiled at the nervous goblin.

"Looks like me and Frodo caught you orcs at breakfast, sorry about that! What you having?"

The goblin looked down at Sam, nervously.

"Ale".

Sam smiled proudly.

"Ale, the cornerstone of any Middle-Earther's breakfast! Would you mind if I sampled your tasty, homemade beverage?"

"No".

Sam took one of the filled mugs and lifted it up to his lips. He took a big drink and placed the mug down again, sighing contentedly.

"Mmmm, that hit the spot! I do love me the taste of good ale. You orcs make some pretty fine ale!"

The goblin nodded his head, obliged.

"Now, let me take a wild guess in assuming that you're, Gorbag right?"

The goblin that was in fact named Gorbag, nodded his head. Samwise smiled, and then asked him the candid question:

"Gorbag, do you know what they call ale in Rivendell?"

"No".

"Tell him Frodo!"

Frodo, who had come over to the other side of the room, looked up and answered:

"Elvish foam!"

Sam repeated to himself:

"Elvish foam! You know why they call it that?"

Gorbag then looked up nervously and responded:

"Because they speak Elvish?"

Samwise was taken aback by this puny goblin's intelligence and responded in a polite, yet slightly patronizing way.

"Check out the big brain on Gorbag! You a smart little warg-rider, that's right!"

Sam, stepped back, and let the atmosphere settle a little, before he began his proper questioning. He looked at Gorbag, Gorbag looked at Frodo, Frodo looked at Sam. Grima on the other hand, who sat in the corner of the room, just blankly stared at everyone. Sam then continued:

"We're associates of your business partner Lord Elrond. You, are familiar with your business partner Lord Elrond aren't you Gorbag?"

"Yes."

Samwise saw that this line of enquiry was going nowhere, so he turned his attention, to the giant Uruk-Hai, lying on the sofa.

"You, Uruk-Hai, know why we're here? Why don't you tell my man Frodo where you've got the package hid?"

Before he could answer, Grima chipped in, pointing to a large chest over in the left corner of the chamber.

"It's over there-

However, before he could finish, Samwise turned to Grima and yelled at him, furiously:

"I don't remember asking you a ring-stealing thing!"

Grima quickly shut up and Sam composed himself. He then turned back to the Uruk-Hai.

"You were saying?"

The Uruk-Hai stretched out his long, black arm and growled out:

"It's in that alabaster chest, over by the potion stand, on the floor!"

Samwise nodded and Frodo bent down to the chest. He lifted it up on to a small side table. Nervously, he flicked the hinges off the top and heaved the top of the chest, open. Frodo's face suddenly became illuminated with what appeared to be golden light. It amazed Frodo and for a little while, he stood, looking in awe. Sam however, was more concerned with the job at hand.

"Frodo?"

Frodo was still transfixed on the contents of the chest. Samwise asked again, only this time, more serious:

"Frodo! Are we overjoyed?"

Frodo suddenly looked up from the chest and smiled to Sam.

"Yeah, we're overjoyed!"

Frodo closed the chest and locked it again. Sam turned his attention, back to Gorbag.

Gorbag's patience had run out, he was scared of these two hobbits; there was something about them that was truly unsettling. He turned to the ginger-haired hobbit and asked:

"Look, I know I got your friend's name, Frodo right? But I didn't get yours?"

Sam was not to be put off by this puny goblin's attempts at polite conversation. Harshly, he replied:

"My name's Minas Tirith, and your green arse isn't talking your way out of this!"

This was too much for the goblin, he stood up to try and get equal with the hobbit, but the hobbit was having none of it. As soon as Gorbag rose, Sam stuck his hand out; gesturing for Gorbag to sit back down again. Gorbag knew it was better to do as the ginger-haired Halfling said, than to irritate him further; he sat down. Nervously, he tried to make conversation with the irritated hobbit again.

"Look, I just want you guys to know, we didn't mean for things to get so messed up! We only got into this thing with the best intentions and we-

Sam had had enough of the goblin's stalling, and he remembered what Elrond had told him: that apart from Grima, no one was to leave that tower alive! Sam promptly removed his pistol, aimed it directly at the Uruk-Hai's chest, and before he or Gorbag to could do anything, he fired into the Uruk-Hai's chest. There was a loud bang, and a small explosion of black, orkish blood. The Uruk-Hai lay, dead! Gorbag stared in horror at Sam, however for Sam, killing an orc was as trivial as swatting a fly. Sadistically, he turned his attention back to Gorbag and replied:

"Oh I'm sorry did I end your concentration? I didn't mean to do that. Please, continue, you were saying something about 'best intentions'?"

Sam wondered over, until he was facing Gorbag, front to front. It was at this point that Frodo came round behind Gorbag and stood, waiting for Sam's queue. Gorbag, on the other hand, sat quite helpless, staring at the terrifying Sam. Sam continued again, now slightly irritated:

"What's the matter? Oh, you were finished! Oh well allow me to retort, what does Lord Elrond look like?"

Gorbag suddenly went into a panic, losing all reason.

"What?"

This simply infuriated Sam, who grabbed hold of the goblin's table and violently, turned it over, spilling the ale and plate of food.

"What region of Middle-Earth are you from?"

"What?"

"What isn't any region I've heard of, do they speak Elvish in 'What'?"

"What?"

This drove Sam, over the edge, he yelled at the top of his lungs:

"Elvish, ring-stealer! Do you speak it?!"

"Yes".

"So you know what I'm saying?"

"Yes".

"Describe, what Lord Elrond looks like!"

The goblin looked at the furious Sam in panic again.

"What?'

Sam had finally lost all patience with this worthless goblin; his aimed his pistol directly at the goblin's chest and yelled:

"Say 'what' again! Say 'what' again, I dare you, I double dare you goblin-scum! Say 'what' one more orkish time!"

The goblin had mustered enough courage to utter a hazy description.

"He's got pointed ears!"

"Go on!"

"He's got brown hair!"

Sam had a burning hatred for all Mordor-beings and he didn't want to let this stupid goblin walk away from things.

"Does he look like a warg?!"

Gorbag had no idea what the hobbit meant.

"What?"

This gave Sam the excuse he needed; he aimed his pistol straight at the goblin's right shoulder and fired. There was a small explosion of green blood as the goblin screamed in pain!

"Does, he, look, like a warg?!"

Gorbag cried out:

"Nooo!"

"So why did you try and ride him like a warg Gorbag?!"

Gorbag was into too much pain to shout; he squealed out:

"I didn't!"

Sam had no remorse; he looked Gorbag straight in the face and yelled:

"Yes you did! Yes you did Gorbag! You tried to ride him, and Lord Elrond doesn't like to be ridden, unless it's him, riding his horse!"

Sam then lowered his tone and leaned in closer to the squealing goblin. He knew that the time had come to recite the lines he so often recited on a job.

"Do you read the Middle-Earth Scrolls Gorbag?"

"Yes!"

"Well there's this passage I've got memorized, seems appropriate for now. Middle-Earth scrolls: two hundred and fifty, one thousand, seven hundred!"

Sam then stepped back and began his recital. Grima watched in terrified silence. Frodo pulled his own pistol out and cocked it. Sam continued:

"The path, of the righteous hobbit is beset on all sides, by the inequities of goblins, and the tyranny of Sauron! Blessed is the hobbit, who in the name of a second breakfast and good ale, shepherds the weak hobbits, through the valleys of Mordor! For he is truly the Shire's keeper, and the finder, of lost rings!"

Sam paused and turned his back on the goblin. However, you could tell by the tone of his voice, that as he turned around, his anger was increasing.

"And I will strike down upon Sauron with great vengeance and a blue sword, those who would attempt to poison and destroy Middle-Earth!"

Sam once again, yelled at the top of his lungs as he ended his recital:

"And you will know, my name is Baggins! When I lay Bilbo's vengeance upon you!"

Ending the recital, he aimed his pistol directly at Gorbag and Frodo did the same. Then, after letting out a pitiful scream, the two hobbits blasted Gorbag! Each hobbit fired at least six, booming shots into Gorbag, until, all that was left, was a big, green, oozing mess, slumped on the floor. Both hobbits lowered their pistols; their work, for now, was done!

Chapter 1: Frodo Baggins and Lord Elrond's Wife

Aragorn had not always been a down-and-out fighter. For many years, he'd wondered the wilds of Middle-Earth and the Shire as a Ranger. It was a great life; him, the road and adventure. The pay was never great and never really constant, but that didn't matter to Aragorn. He was at peace when he went on one of his long journeys. He loved the independence and freedom; he was a ship, captained by himself.

Aragorn had not had an easy childhood; his father had died when he was very little and his mother had died soon after that. Then, Aragorn was out in Middle-Earth alone. He took what little jobs he could and fought violently for what little he had. Most of all, he just wanted a place to belong to.

He mastered the skill of swordsmanship and tracking from a friend of his father named Théoden. Théoden had been like a father to Aragorn and taught him all the skills he needed. He'd also given Aragorn food and shelter and in short, a place to belong to. However, tragedy soon struck when Théoden was killed by a pack of orcs out on the road. Aragorn could not afford to stay at Théoden's house (although Théoden had intended it for him). So, using all the skills that he'd taught him, Aragorn became a Ranger and lived on the open road.

Like I said, the pay was not great but since Aragorn had only himself to support, it didn't matter. However, that all changed when he met Arwen. He'd met Arwen on a crazy night-out in Rivendell when he was passing through on one of his treks. Her beauty ensnared him from the very first moment. She was basically, an Elf-Goddess: kind, sweet, and breathtakingly beautiful. Aragorn had no idea that his feelings of attraction were reciprocated but when he did, he fell madly, deeply, in love. The two lovebirds spent a night of passion, there in Rivendell, but Aragorn had to move on.

However, that night he made a promise to Arwen that she would always have his heart and that as soon as he was done with his trek, he would quit being a ranger and settle down, to live near her. Arwen, also made a promise, she said that she would wait for Aragorn, and wait she did.

Aragorn returned, and finished with the Ranger business. He had a little money saved by, and with that, he bought a house in the village of Brie. Arwen lived near Hobbiton across 'The Water'. This made it easy for Aragorn to visit and the two lovebirds kept the romance, alive and burning. Aragorn had never been happier and finally felt that sense of belonging, which he had been craving for so long.

However, happiness does not pay the bills, and Aragorn soon found himself, hugely in debt. He took what jobs he could find, but they were never well paid, and never permanent. So, Aragorn took jobs doing what he was best at: fighting!

One day, Aragorn met an elf at a banquet named Legolas Greenleaf. They got talking, and Legolas offered him work. He offered him a permanent job boxing and fighting for a 'Lord Elrond' at his various fight clubs in Rivendell. Legolas was basically Elrond's envoy and, not knowing what kind of an elf Elrond was, Aragorn excepted. Almost immediately, Elrond had Aragorn fighting three fights a week, all over Rivendell. Aragorn had never worked so hard, but the pay was good and he was able to keep his house in Brie. He was also able to visit Arwen in Hobbiton, whenever he wanted to. Things seemed all right, until Aragorn began to uncover what kind of an elf Elrond was. Elrond was a violent elf and virtually ruled most of Rivendell with an iron fist. Robbery, murder, prostitution, racketeering, contraband and blackmail, Elrond had done it all. Now, Aragorn was not a strict, law-abiding citizen, but he knew when things were wrong, and when they were too wrong. Aragorn had wanted to get out for a long time, but he knew that this was the only permanent job he'd be able to keep and be near Brie and Arwen. His trips to Arwen were the only things that kept him going. That's how important she'd become to him, and he thought about her every day.

This particular day in Rivendell at Elrond's private banquet hall, Aragorn sat at a table, on his own, thinking about Arwen. He missed everything about her: her touch, her smell, her laugh, her eyes, her body, her humor, but most of all, just being with her.

He wouldn't have even left his bed, had it not been for the fact that Elrond had summoned him personally. Aragon had set off from his home in Brie and now sat, thinking about Arwen, and waiting for Elrond. He stared into oblivion for what felt like an age. He swept his greasy, long, brown hair from his face and smoothed his hands over his stubbly face. The banquet hall itself was a large affair, with many tables and chairs. There were decorative lights all over the hall, cased in pretty, multi-colored, glass jars. Aragorn would've enjoyed being in such a charming environment, had he not been waiting for Elrond's call.

Suddenly, a large, oak, side door opened and into the banquet hall, stepped Legolas Greenleaf, with several other elves. Legolas spotted Aragorn and waved, politely. Aragorn was aware that the hall was suddenly filled with conversation, but not that Legolas was coming over to summon him. He sat, almost in a dreamful trance, when suddenly; Legolas's greeting him brought him back to present life:

"Hey! Aragorn man! How've you been?"

Aragorn looked up dejectedly, forcing a smile and standing.

"Pretty good Legolas, how are you?"

"Not bad, not bad! How's Arwen?"

"Fine thanks!"

Just hearing her name, wounded Aragorn to the core. Legolas, blissfully unaware continued with his greeting.

"No time for a smoke and chat I'm afraid, he'll see you now!"

Aragorn shuddered at the idea, but forced another smile. Soon, Aragorn found himself in a dark study, talking with the man himself. Aragorn had never actually seen Lord Elrond in clear daylight. Now, he sat with him in almost pitch darkness, save a few spooky candles on the nearby mantelpiece. All he could make out was a thin face, with pointed ears, and long, dark hair. He deduced from this that Elrond did not like to be seen by strangers. Suddenly, after casual greetings, a booming voice rang out from the figure that was Lord Elrond.

"Listen kid, you've had a good run! You've been one of my best fighters and you've won every fight I've thrown for you!"

This reassured Aragorn, he realized that Elrond was trying to be friendly and reasonable. However, he still wondered why exactly, Elrond had called him.

"But, I have to be honest with you. You, winning the fights, just isn't cutting it anymore. You're too good, and people know it. So, the way I see it, the only way you can get everybody interested in your fights again, is to start losing, and that's why I called you down here this afternoon. I've got another fight for you; it's with an orc by the name of Gothmog. Now, Gothmog's a pretty tough son of a warg but I know he still wouldn't be any trouble for you. So, here's what I want you to do: I want you to lose the fight in the fifth round, ok? That's where the money is, so, in the fifth round, your arse goes down. Now I want you to repeat after me: 'in the fifth round, my arse goes down'!"

Aragorn knew exactly what Elrond was asking of him. He knew how worthless he would feel, but he also knew he couldn't refuse, so he repeated:

"In the fifth round, my arse goes down!"

"That's it kid. And after the fight's over, I think you're going to find yourself one smiling, son of a warg!"

So Aragorn, once again, found himself sitting in Elrond's banquet hall, cradling a pint of ale. He was not happy at all with the deal he had just made. Deliberately losing a fight? It went against everything he'd ever believed in. He had a lot of thinking to do, but he was still determined to stay in the daydream of being with Arwen again. However, suddenly the banquet hall door opened again and in walked a hobbit. He wore a black tunic with a silver cloak and had brown, short, curly hair. It was Frodo. He walked up to the long table that Aragorn was sitting at, and waved to Legolas for another pint of ale. Frodo sat silently, but then, noticed Aragorn sitting next to him. Frodo didn't like humans. He liked elves because they were cultured, but he found most humans to be messy and loud, and this human was no different. His boots were filthy and he had an unshaven face with greasy hair. Frodo stared down his nose at Aragorn haughtily, however, Aragorn noticed this and replied intimidatingly:

"Is there a problem friend?"

Frodo was not put off or threatened by this at all; he'd dealt with his fair share of troublemaking humans.

"I'm not your friend!"

This bad mannered little Shire rat took Aragorn aback.

"Excuse me?!"

"I think you heard".

The two locked eyes. Aragorn was getting ready to deck this little runt when suddenly a booming voice sounded in the distance. It was Elrond calling.

"Frodo Baggins! The man himself, come on in here and let's talk!"

Frodo was seconds away from jumping this aggressive human, but Elrond was calling him and he decided to leave this potential brawl for another time. He stared at Aragorn a while longer, before standing, and walking off for Elrond's study. Aragorn had just come incredibly close to hitting that rude, little hobbit, but he also decided to leave that potential battle for another day. He downed his ale, picked up his cloak, and left the banquet hall.

Hours after his discussion with Elrond and disagreement with that rude human, Frodo was riding his little carriage into the moonlit forests of Lothlórien. The forests there were truly magical. Little white lights, decorated every tree in view and turtledoves flew overhead. Little banquet halls and elvish huts lined most of the trees around each clearing. There were long, iron walkways built around almost all of the trees and after Rivendell, it was the elves most famous dwelling in all of Middle-Earth. Frodo was enchanted as he drove his pony and carriage down the road towards one of Lothlórien's many clearings. He knew exactly where he was going. Frodo was going to see an elf-friend of his named Haldir who grew and supplied powerful, hallucinogenic mushrooms. They were the kind Frodo and Sam had been talking about a week ago on the road to Isengard. Many people in Middle-Earth knew of Haldir, and they also knew about his mushrooms. Haldir's mushrooms were powerful; they could take you places, colorful places. However, each batch that Haldir grew had different levels of potency and different purposes. Some made you woozy and a little overjoyed, whilst others made you forget things. Haldir was in a dirty business, but Frodo was his friend and since Frodo didn't play by the rules either, he was content for Haldir to be his friend and seller. He had, after all, been going to Haldir as his supplier for a long time.

Finally, he reached the clearing that he'd been riding for and stopped outside Haldir's house. It was a charming elvish longhouse, built on stumps off the surface of the ground. It was made, mainly of alabaster-colored pinewood, with a tall roof and large, painted windows. Frodo parked his carriage and went up to the longhouse. He pranced up the stairs, straight to the front door and knocked hard. The door was suddenly opened by a beautiful she-elf with long, brown hair. Frodo knew Haldir often hung around with a couple of loose she-elves and this was obviously one of them.

"Hey there. I'm here to see Haldir!"

The she-elf smiled and beamed:

"Sure, come on in honey!"

Frodo had been called many things, but never "honey". Still, he accepted the greeting and went on inside. The she-elf took him through to a study, where the opposing gaze of another she-elf greeted him. This one had long, black hair. She didn't like hobbits and stared at Frodo menacingly. The she-elf then took him round to a flight of stairs and the pair ascended. They came up and round to a hallway door; this was Haldir's room. The she-elf smiled at Frodo and knocked on the door. There was a dejected groan inside:

"Yeah, what do you want?"

The she-elf bent down to Frodo.

"What's your name cutie-pie?"

"Frodo Baggins".

"Frodo Baggins is here to see you!"

Suddenly, the door opened and out came Haldir. He was a tall elf, with a thin face, large, pointed ears and long, golden hair.

"Hey Frodo man! How's it going?"

"Pretty good, pretty good. Can I come in?"

"Sure dude, that'd be fine, you can leave us babe!"

He was, of course, referring to the she-elf, who turned and descended back down the stairs. Haldir then, let Frodo in, and closed the door behind them.

The two chums sat, on the floor of the bedroom, smoking the latest batch of Haldir's mushrooms in long wooden pipes.

"So Frodo, how's work treating you these days?"

"Fine! I'm taking Elrond's missus on a night out, since he's gone off to Gondor on business. Getting well paid to do it too!"

"Ok, where you taking her?"

"There's a banquet being held in Rivendell. Apparently the hottest musicians in town are going to be there, but I was wandering if you had any good mushrooms I could buy off you?"

Haldir looked at Frodo knowingly.

"Do you ever come to me for any other reason?"

Frodo smiled.

"Something that'll wipe me out for a few days; I've had a couple of really tough weeks and I just need to relax. Taking Mrs. Elrond on a night out is the last thing I needed right now!"

Haldir placed his hand on Frodo's shoulder friendlily.

"I've got just the thing!"

Haldir opened up a chest that lay on the far side of the room and drew out a small, knitted bag. He opened it up and showed it to Frodo. Inside, were several, large, bluish mushrooms. Frodo looked to Haldir who looked back to him. The pair smiled.

"What are they?"

"They're my latest batch. I grew them a couple of months ago and they should do the trick!"

Haldir handed Frodo the bag, who handed Haldir a small purse containing money.

"Thanks mate, see you next time!"

Frodo was about to leave when suddenly Haldir grabbed him by the shoulder and turned to him.

"Listen Frodo, I know you like to party hard, but don't underestimate these little babies. They are very, very strong and if you smoke 'em too hard, who knows what might happen, you get me?"

"Sure I get you, I'll be careful".

And with that, Frodo Baggins left Lothlórien and Haldir, for Rivendell and the Lady Galadriel.

Finally, after a long and tiring journey, Frodo Baggins arrived in the glorious city of Rivendell. There were a great many halls and longhouses scattered everywhere along the great cavern. All the houses had red, brick roofs with sandstone walls and large oaken doors. Waterfalls and springs flowed from multiple places along the various cliff faces of Rivendell. It was a cavernous paradise!

It was nightfall when Frodo arrived. He followed his given directions and drove the carriage round to the appointed house: Lord Elrond's house. It was larger than any of the other houses but was of the same design with tall, sandstone walls, a slanted, redbrick roof and large, painted, glass windows. He parked his carriage round the side of the house and padded up to the large, oak, front door. There was a large lamp hung above the door and underneath that was a note. The note was written on tattered note paper and read:

'Frodo, please let yourself in and make yourself comfortable. I'll be with you shortly, Galadriel'.

Frodo looked at the note, he then looked to the door. He realized that once he crossed that threshold, there was no going back and that he would be held, totally responsible for anything that happened. Taking a big breath, he pushed open the front door, and entered. He found himself in a glorious living room with oak tables and chairs, a cobblestone fireplace, glass lanterns, and various paintings and frames all over the walls. It was a very posh affair and Frodo imagined just how much it would cost to maintain such a house. He paced around the room, looking at every piece of furniture, every painting and every colored-lantern. And yet, there was one painting he had failed to notice: the large painting of Lúthien that hung over the fireplace. The main thing he had failed to notice about this painting of one of Elrond's ancestors was the eyes! The eyes were not actually there. Instead, there were two round holes cut where the eyes should've been, but through those holes, a pair of eyes were staring, the eyes of none other, than Lady Galadriel herself. Behind the wall and behind the fireplace and chimney, was a secret room. This room was strictly for Lady Galadriel, where she could sit, sleep, smoke mushrooms, or (when necessary) spy on her guests in the living room. She watched Frodo wander around the living room like a hawk, making mental notes of every move he made and all his mannerisms. Finally, she decided to reveal herself, calling sexily:

"Frodo, Frodooo?"

Frodo spun around to this cheeky yet sexy calling. He'd heard her voice but he still had no idea from where.

"I'm speaking off the intercom tubes, you try?"

"Where?"

"Just follow my voice over to the other side of the room. You'll find a copper tube bending out of the wall, you just speak into it and I'll hear you!"

Frodo did as he was told. He paced over to the far side of the living room and sure enough, there was a large copper tube, sticking out of the sandstone wall. He took hold of the tube and spoke into it:

"Hello?"

Frodo's calm voice was transported across the room and back to Galadriel's study through the pipe.

"That's it! Listen Frodo, make yourself a drink and I'll be there in two shakes of a warg's tail. The bar's over by the oak bookcase, ok?"

"Ok".

Frodo then looked over to the wall next to the fireplace. There was the bookcase, and next to it was a small table with bottles of whiskey and pint jugs of ale on top. Slowly and cautiously, Frodo wandered over and fixed himself a small glass of whiskey. He took a small sip. It tasted good, and for the moment, it calmed his nerves.

Galadriel on the other hand, was smoking mushrooms out of an alabaster-colored wooden pipe in her spy room. She breathed in the aromatic scents of the mushrooms and let herself fall, woozily, into a trance.

She wasn't long in getting ready or in smoking, and was soon abandoning her spy room and approaching the living room, and Frodo. Frodo, was still enjoying his scotch when suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching outside the living room door. He put down the drink and prepared himself. Suddenly, the door opened and in stepped the one and only Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond's wife. She was beautiful beyond compare with a slender, pale face, sexy yet kind, sapphire eyes and truly radiant, golden hair. She wore a long white dress with rolled up sleeves and a black cloak over her shoulders. In short, she was elvish beauty personified. Frodo was struck almost speechless by her beauty. He stood for a few moments dumb, before he remembered where he was and who he was with, and regained the power of speech.

"Well, shall we?"

Sexily, and slowly, she replied:

"I do believe, we shall".

Frodo gestured to the front door and the couple left the house. They walked round to the carriage.

"So, Frodo, where are we off to tonight?"

"A little banquet hall I know called 'Jack Mutton Slims', they do food but also music, should be ok".

As Frodo helped Galadriel into the back of the carriage, she replied:

"I'll take your word for it".

Frodo shuddered, realizing how much was expected of him, not just by Galadriel but by Elrond as well. Frodo, then ascended the carriage, took hold of the reins and drove the carriage off for Jack Mutton Slims.

It was later in the evening when they finally arrived at Jack Mutton Slims's banquet hall. It was a typical elvish banquet hall with large, open walls and tall windows. Like most of the buildings in Rivendell it had sandstone walls, with a redbrick roof. There were pretty, colored lights around the door and as Frodo and Galadriel approached, they could hear people inside. They were loud, cheering and laughing. Frodo looked to Galadriel, Galadriel looked to him, then Frodo opened the door and the couple entered the banquet hall.

There were people everywhere in the banquet hall, talking, laughing and eating. Elvish waiters and waitresses buzzed around from table to table serving out food and drink. Everyone was having a good time! In the center of the banquet hall, sat the dance floor and next to the dance floor was a large podium where the musicians were to perform. Galadriel and Frodo were busy surveying the mob when suddenly; a waiter who promptly seated them at a small table near the dance floor accosted them. Then, he brought forth a quill and notebook to take their orders as they surveyed the laid-out menus. Everything sounded good.

Frodo asked Galadriel first:

"So, what are you having?"

"I think… I'll have the grilled mutton burger with the goat's milk shake!"

Frodo then gave his order:

"I'll have the same but I'll have a pint of ale instead ok?"

The waiter nodded after jotting down their requests and promptly left for the kitchen. Frodo then took out his pipe and promptly began to light up, eyeing Galadriel nervously. He didn't want her telling Elrond that he hadn't made any attempts at conversation.

"So, I heard you were a theatre actress?"

"Was."

"What?"

"Was a theatre actress, they showed the play I was in, 'on trial' for one night and the next day, they scrapped it!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you mind if I ask what it was about?"

"No, it was about a bunch of she-elf warriors and their adventures in Middle-Earth. It was called 'Vixen-Force Five'".

"Why?"

"Well, 'Vixen' because we were as cool as vixens and 'Five' because there were five of us. We all had special, individual skills?"

"Like what?"

"Well, one was an archer, one was an axe woman, one was a sword mistress, one was a gunpowder expert".

"And you?"

"Daggers".

"Sounds cool".

"Too bad the rest of Rivendell didn't think so!"

Galadriel paused when suddenly, the waiter arrived; he had brought their drinks. He put the shake in front of Galadriel and the ale in front of Frodo. Galadriel took a sip of her shake and Frodo took a swig of his ale. There was suddenly, silence. Frodo looked about awkwardly, trying to figure out something to say. Galadriel then put down her drink and leaned in closer to Frodo, a little intimidatingly.

"Don't you just hate that?"

"What?"

"Awkward silences!"

Frodo swallowed nervously.

"You know what I mean?"

Frodo replied:

"Yeah, I guess".

"People just talking for the sake of talking and it's going like that for a little while until suddenly, they stop! They can't find anything new to talk about, and that's how you get an awkward silence, bit like this".

Frodo could tell Galadriel was playing with him and he smiled, a little more confidently.

"Yeah, sorry about that!"

"Don't worry! Listen Frodo, I'm going to go and powder my nose and while I'm gone, why don't you try and figure out something to talk to me about ok?"

"Sure".

Frodo smiled, and Galadriel took off through the crowd and straight for the bathroom. Frodo sat for a while, still taking the odd puff from his pipe and trying to think of what to talk to Galadriel about. Frodo suddenly remembered Samwise telling him about how Elrond had once had Celeborn thrown over a waterfall for giving Galadriel a foot massage.

A little while later, Galadriel had returned from the bathroom. By this time, their food had finally arrived. Galadriel beamed with excitement.

"Don't you just love it how you get back from the bathroom and find that your food's arrived?"

"Sure".

Galadriel sat down and took a large bite out of her mutton burger. She licked her lips; it was tasty!

"So, did you finally come up with something new to talk to me about?"

"Sure did, but I'm worried that you'll get offended".

Galadriel faked shock.

"Ooooh Frodo! This isn't the same 'cool as cucumber' cad that I sat down with!"

Frodo smiled.

"Yeah, but do you promise not to get offended by my question?"

"I can't possibly make a promise like that because I have absolutely no idea what you're going to ask me about, you're just going to have to take a leap of faith!"

Galadriel's subsequent smile invited confidence, yet Frodo found none.

"Alright, here goes: what happened between you and Celeborn, to make Elrond have his Galadhrims throw Celeborn over a waterfall?"

Galadriel mulled this question over, then, not losing her cool, replied:

"Well, what do you think happened?"

"I don't 'think' anything. What I heard was that Elrond had his Galadhrims throw Celeborn over a waterfall, because he gave you a foot massage".

"A foot massage?"

"Yeah".

"And what do you think of that piece of information?"

"I think that Celeborn should have known better".

Galadriel took another sip of her shake and then looked at Frodo.

"And who told you this?"

"A friend of mine".

"Well, tell your friend, that the only part of me that Celeborn ever touched was my hand".

"I see".

"On the day of my marriage... When he gave me away!"

"Oh!"

Frodo now realized just how wrong Samwise's story had been about Galadriel and her relationship with Celeborn.

"Look Frodo, the truth is: no one apart from Elrond and Celeborn himself know why Elrond acted the way he did. But I'll tell you this: it certainly wasn't on account of Celeborn giving me some foot massage, ok?"

"Ok, well that's all I wanted to know".

Galadriel shook her head to herself, amused.

"Honestly, when you hooligans get together you're more trouble than a quilting circle!"

Frodo smiled to himself, the evening was going better than he had expected. A little while after, the famous band that Frodo had been talking to Haldir about arrived at the hall and set up on the podium. They were all immaculately dressed elvish musicians, carrying flutes, guitars, bases and harps. Almost everyone in the crowd (including Frodo and Galadriel) was watching expectedly, waiting. Finally, a tall, blond elf wondered onto the dance floor and prepared to speak. Galadriel suddenly turned to Frodo.

"I want to dance!"

"No, I don't dance!"

"Now wait a minute! I do believe Lord Elrond: your boss, my husband told you to take me out and do whatever I wanted. Well, I want to compete, I want to win a trophy, I want to dance! So come on, and dance good!"

Frodo smiled to himself and sheepishly joined Galadriel as they strolled up to the elf that was speaking on the dance floor.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Now the moment you've all been waiting for: it's a world-famous, Jack Mutton Slims, dance contest!"

The elf turned to Galadriel and Frodo as they strolled onto the dance floor.

"And now to meet our first contestants, young lady, what is your name?"

Softly, like a doe, Galadriel replied:

"Lady Galadriel".

Frodo knew how much respect that name commanded in Rivendell.

"And what about you hobbit gent here?"

Cheekily, Galadriel made an imitation of Frodo's somber tone in voice:

"Frodo Baggins".

Finally, they took up positions, the musicians prepared to play and the announcing elf concluded:

"All right, take it away folks!"

The band began to play an old Rivendell classic as the club's singer commenced. This particular song was famous across Middle-Earth and a favorite at all the parties in Rivendell. It had a funky, fancy-free rhythm and everybody loved its catchy tune. The lyrics were a mix between English and Sindarin (Elvish) and went something like this:

'It was an elvish wedding, and the old elves wished them well

You could see that Kili did truly love Tauriel

And now the young dwarf gent and she-elf have rung a chapel bell

"I's Cuil", said the old elves, it went to show they never could tell

They furnished off a dwarf castle with a two-room Brandybuck sale

The castle keep was crammed, with mutton dinners and cooling ale

But when Kili found work, his little mining company worked out well

"I's Cuil", said the old elves, it went to show they never could tell

They had some elvish minstrels, boy, did they let them blast

Seven hundred little ballads, all folk, rhythm and dance

But when the sun went down, the rapid tempo of their music fell

"I's Cuil", said the old elves, it when to show they never could tell

They bought a tall oak carriage, called the 'Cherry Red Fifty-Three'

They drove it down to Gondor to celebrate the anniversary

It was there that Kili was wedded to the lovely Tauriel

'I's Cuil', said the old elves, it went to show they never could tell'.

Frodo and Galadriel danced brilliantly! Frodo twisted a little bit like a worm on a hook, but he had style and swagger and the audience lapped it up. Galadriel on the other hand was a professional and danced like a fox, slow and sexy. They danced, and the band played, long into the night.

Finally, after a short drive back from Jack Mutton Slims, Frodo and Galadriel arrived back at Elrond's house. The door burst open, as in-danced Frodo and Galadriel. They hummed the tune of their song together and looked at each other cheekily. Frodo then left Galadriel and went back to retrieve his satchel. He came back to the living room; Galadriel was waiting. He laid the satchel down and removed their small, golden trophy. They had won the dance competition; Galadriel was thrilled!

"We won!"

Frodo had become suddenly rather nervous again.

"Yeah. Listen, could I use your bathroom for a moment?"

"Sure, it's along the hallway and the second door on the left".

"Thanks".

Quickly, Frodo opened the second, living room door and took off down the hallway for the bathroom. Galadriel sat on the sofa, curling her toes playfully. She looked at Frodo's satchel and naughtily, decided to have a snoop. She ruffled through the satchel and suddenly found Frodo's small bag. She opened the bag and looked inside; she had found Frodo's mushrooms from Haldir.

"Frodo! You've been holding out on me!"

Frodo, on the other hand, was busy in the bathroom, pacing up and down, talking to himself.

"Come on Frodo, you've just got to keep it together, keep it together! You've danced with her and had fun, now just leave it there! You just need to say 'goodnight' and then you can be on your way!"

He tried to calm himself down, but despite his best intentions, he was panicking.

Galadriel emptied the mushrooms into a bowl and took out a match from her pocket. She struck it on the edge of her cobblestone fireplace and walked back over to the bowl. She lit the mushrooms and immediately, they began to smoke and puff. She dipped her head down into the bowl and breathed in the aromatic mushroom smoke. She breathed in and out hard, waiting for her usual trance. Suddenly, Galadriel took her head out of the bowl and stood up quickly. Something was very wrong; these were not the sorts of mushrooms that Galadriel was used to. She broke into a sweat and suddenly felt very cold. Slowly, she wandered over to the living room door when suddenly, her legs gave out and she fell to the ground, then, blacked out. This was exactly what Haldir had warned might happen!

Finally, Frodo returned from the bathroom to the living room. He was now prepared to say 'goodnight' and leave when suddenly, Galadriel's pale body greeted him: lying on the floor of the living room. A sudden, violent sense of terror came over Frodo as he realized what was happening. He looked over to the center table and saw his mushrooms. He went over and took hold of the bowl, then threw the mushrooms into the living room fire. He then turned to Galadriel and stooped down to nervously check her pulse. There was a pulse, but it was deadly weak! He ran his fingers through his hair, vainly trying to come up with some solution when suddenly, it dawned on him: since Haldir had sold and grown these mushrooms; Haldir would know what to do with Galadriel! So, Frodo loaded the passed-out Galadriel into his carriage, took hold of the rains, and set off for Lothlórien at top speed!

It was early morning when Frodo finally arrived at Haldir's Lothlórien longhouse. It was still dark outside, but that was good since Frodo didn't want anyone to see him or Galadriel. He sprinted up to Haldir's front door and knocked hard. Yelling could be heard inside from both male and female voices. Frodo waited nervously when suddenly, Haldir opened the door. He was angry.

"Frodo, do you have any idea what time it is? What on earth is the matter?!"

"I'm in trouble!"

Frodo and Haldir looked at each other for a little while; both nervous about what the other were going to say next.

Haldir's two she-elf friends lifted Galadriel into the living room; she was still deathly pale and hardly breathed at all. They laid her out on the floor and sat back, catching their breath. Angrily, Haldir looked at the panicking Frodo.

"Why did you give her the mushrooms?!"

"I didn't give them to her, she went through my satchel and found them!"

"Well, what was she doing going through your satchel?"

"I went to the bathroom and she smoked them while I was out of the room!"

"Why did you leave her alone with these bad boys?!"

"Because, I had to-

The black-haired she-elf who had glared at Frodo so angrily earlier, turned on Frodo and Haldir, yelling:

"Hey! Will you two cut it out! There is a dying she-elf lying on our floor after taking some of your mushrooms! Can we focus and do something about her?!"

Haldir composed himself and replied.

"Ok babes, sure thing. Just calm down and look after this Rivendell chick".

Quietly, Frodo turned to Haldir and whispered:

"Look man, there was nothing I could do! I'm sorry, it's not fair dropping this on you, it was my responsibility and I screwed up, but listen man: if she dies tonight, it's my arse and when Elrond finds out who sold the mushrooms that killed his wife, he's going to be coming after them too! Now look, I brought her here because I thought, if anyone would know what to do: it would be you!"

There was a tense silence for a few minutes. Haldir scratched his chin, looked at the floor, and then looked at Frodo.

"Ok! Look, I've got something that might work but it's not going to be easy ok?"

"Sure, anything!"

Frodo breathed a shaky sigh of relief as Haldir dashed off upstairs. He returned, with a crumpled package under his arm. Frodo wondered what the package could be as he and Haldir sat themselves down, next to Galadriel's body. Her skin was as white as snow as Haldir felt for a pulse on her neck.

"There's a pulse man, but it's weaker than weak! We have to act now!"

Haldir unwrapped the object to reveal a long, blue crystal. It was thick at one end, with a needlepoint at the other end. Nervously, Haldir turned to Frodo.

"Look man, I can't do this; I'm not strong enough!"

"What do you mean?"

"Look, this crystal was made in Rivendell; it's got some serious enchantment on it, but it only works, if it's jabbed into the heart of the person who's dying ok?"

"So?"

"So, I need you to: take the crystal, aim it directly at her heart and bring it down in a stabbing motion and if we're lucky, she'll wake up, ok? But listen, you have to do it hard and fast, and most of all, you have to do it accurate. If you're even one centimeter off, the magic won't work and she'll die on the spot!"

"Ok, I'll give it a try!"

Frodo was terrified! He had never had so much to lose and now, Galadriel's very life, depended on his actions in the next few minutes. He took one, long breath and finally, took hold of the crystal. He readied himself and leaned over Galadriel's pale body. He extended his little, shaking arms holding the crystal, and prepared to strike!

"Now remember man: hard, fast and straight ok?"

Frodo nodded to Haldir and readied himself. He waited for a second and then, mustering all the strength and composure that he could, Frodo drove the crystal down and into Galadriel's heart! To Frodo's utter relief, he had hit the target: Galadriel's heart! However, this battle was not over yet; everyone waited for the magic to work and for Galadriel to finally, come round. Frodo looked to Haldir, Haldir looked to Frodo, Frodo looked to the sexy, brown-haired she-elf of earlier, Haldir looked to the slightly cranky, black-haired she-elf. Suddenly, Galadriel let out a small cough; everyone stared in disbelief. Then, she let out a huge and terrible gasp as she righted herself and sat up in exasperated disbelief. Everyone cried out in relief as Galadriel looked around, confused and dazed. She then looked to the large, blue crystal sticking out her chest and attempted to remove it. Haldir suddenly warned:

"No lady! It might need to stay in a little longer, if the magic is to properly work!"

Galadriel stared around, wondering what to do or say and what had happened when suddenly, her eyes fixated on Frodo. She smiled a small, timid smile as she realized that it was Frodo who had saved her life. Frodo smiled as everyone sat back and sighed in glorious relief. The black-haired she-elf summed up the situation perfectly as she chuckled:

"Truly, that was trippy!"

Everyone smiled and looked at each other; the fight was over and Galadriel had come though it alive! Frodo felt like a free man after overcoming such a terrible trial, but he knew that he still had business to take care of: returning Galadriel back to Rivendell as fast as he could!

It was light outside when Frodo finally brought his carriage round to Elrond's house. Elrond had returned. Frodo and Galadriel knew this because Elrond's white stallion was tethered to the side of the house. Frodo helped Galadriel down off the carriage, and walked her to the front door of Elrond's house. They had cleaned her up and removed the crystal shortly after their ordeal and now Galadriel was looking quite well, though a little shaken. Galadriel was about to knock on the door when Frodo looked up to her nervously.

"Look-

"Elrond doesn't have to know; I'd be in just as much trouble as you would be, so he never has to know!"

She smiled at Frodo one, final time and Frodo was once again, taken aback by her beauty. Frodo was sad to say farewell since he wondered about what might have been between them.

"Bye Frodo and thanks".

Frodo nodded as the she-elf goddess left him on the doorstep. Frodo remained on the doorstep for a little while, thinking about the incredible, yet terrifying night he had just spent with the Lady Galadriel. May be in another time and another world, she could have been his, but this was Middle-Earth, and Frodo was a practical sort of hobbit. So, he boarded his carriage, took hold of the reins, and left for his home in Hobbiton, and a well-deserved rest! His day was finally over.

The next day however, Aragorn's night, was only just beginning. Finally, after a day of hard training, Aragorn was at Elrond's fight club in Rivendell, preparing for his fight with Gothmog. The fight club itself was built in the catacombs beneath a large, elvish banquet hall. The catacombs themselves were a series of large, stone chambers, with the main chamber or fighting ring, built in the center.

Aragorn sat in his own changing room, preparing himself for the fight of his life. Not the fight of his life because it was going to be ridiculously hard, but because he had a one, massive decision to make: either lose the fight in the fifth round and remain Elrond's pawn forever, or break free and fight for love, honor and win! He hadn't felt right ever since he'd agreed to lose the fight but now, as he sat in his changing room, in his fighting robes, he didn't really know what to think. He thought of being with Arwen almost constantly but right now, more than anything, he was tired, very tired! It had been a long day; in the morning, Arwen had come over to his house in Brie and had helped him move all his things, over to her house in Hobbiton. He loved Arwen, more than life itself.

He sat, waiting, staring at the door that would take him out to the fighting ring. As well exhaustion, he felt a mix of fear, confusion and anger: he knew he needed anger for the fight but he was afraid of provoking Elrond and running out on the most powerful man in Rivendell, but he was also so confused about what he should do next. He leaned back, the sweat pouring down his face, and lay down on the bench he'd been sitting on. He looked up at the dark, candlelit ceiling, and thought about what he was going to do. He knew that he couldn't live like he was forever: fighting like a caged animal! But he also knew that if he left with Arwen for some far-off city in Middle-Earth, he would need money to support her. He tried to remain awake and use the few, vital seconds he had left, to think about his decision, but tiredness was overcoming him, and slowly, his eyes closed shut.

Suddenly, Aragorn was a tiny boy, sitting in his family home in Gondor, playing with his toy Galadhrim whilst his mother cooked supper. Aragorn remembered hardly anything of his rough childhood but this had suddenly come to him. The little Aragorn sat, playing blissfully, while his mother hummed softly in the kitchen. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. The young Aragorn noticed this, but was not really bothered by it, as his mother went to answer the door. She opened the large, oak door and in stepped a tall elf. He wore elvish, Mirkwood armor, had a slim, pale face, pointed ears and long, white hair.

"Lady Gilraen".

"Oh, Lord Thranduil, please, do come in! I believe you wanted to speak with my son".

"Yes, would that be alright with you?"

"Of course!"

Lady Gilraen then called to her son:

"Aragorn! The visitor I told you about is here, he wants to speak with you".

Little Aragorn turned his head, and got a good look at Thranduil in his armor. The Lord of Mirkwood then waltzed over to the young Aragorn and bent down, till he was looking him in the face.

"Hello little Aragorn, I've heard a lot about you, do you mind if we talk? I've come to tell you about your father".

Aragorn was a little suspicious of this stranger but he saw no harm in talking, so he nodded.

"Good. You see Aragorn, I served with your father Arathorn for several years in the army, and being friends and comrades, we made a pact that if anything happened to either of us: he would tell my family, and I would tell his, that's you Aragorn. However, most importantly, your father wanted me to pass on his most prized possession to you".

Thranduil then reached into his pocket and removed something: a golden ring. Aragorn marveled at its beauty; he'd never seen anything like it before. There was something enchanting about it, but also something a little sinister about it and its ominous golden glow.

"This Aragorn, was your father's most prized possession and over the course of our friendship, he told me exactly how it came to be in his possession. It's a story he told to me at least three of four times and he wanted me to tell it to you if the time came. So now, I shall do exactly that".

Aragorn was still nervous of this stranger, but he did love a good story and he saw that this stranger posed no real threat.

"Now Aragorn, this ring has been in your family for generations but it first belonged to Sauron, the dark Lord of Mordor. He, after all, is the guy who made it! He crafted this ring inside the volcano, Mount Doom, and he bound his life force to it! Anyway, Sauron had a plan to take over the whole of Middle-Earth and it was your ancestor, King Elendil of Gondor and his son Isildur, who decided to stop him! They lead an alliance of men and elves against the dark armies of Sauron and fought a long and hard war against Sauron. That was called the 'First War of the Ring'! Anyway, long story short: Elendil died in battle, but his son managed to defeat Sauron and took the ring, this ring Aragorn! He didn't really realize just how powerful it was, but he thought it was a lucky charm and would keep him safe, however, his luck wasn't as good as the ring's and he was ambushed by a pack of orcs and killed. The ring however, was lost, and stayed lost for many, many years Aragorn. Now, there was a lot of talk about the ring being found by some creature and then a hobbit. I don't know weather that's true or not, but one thing I do know, is that it finally came to your grandfather, Arador, a chieftain of the Dúnedain, that's your direct bloodline Aragorn. Now your grandfather would've become a king of Gondor, but he decided to leave that life behind, and became a forest-dweller: that's someone who prefers living on the open road than indoors. Anyway, one day he came across the ring while he was hunting and decided to keep it for himself. Your father was born and your grandfather decided that the ring should then go to him. Now, your father, unlike Arador, wanted to take up the mantle of 'King of Gondor', so he moved your family here, but it was at this time, that another war was being fought in Middle-Earth. Sauron's forces had reformed and were fighting a war against four other armies, including an army of men lead by your father, and an army of elves lead by me. This was called the 'Battle of the Five Armies', and it was fought for control of the mountain of Erebor. Anyway, this was where I met your father and we became good friends, as well as military comrades. Anyway, the war took a turn for the worst and our forces were nearly defeated. Your father and I were captured by Sauron's orc armies and sent off to an orc concentration camp near the mines at Moria. We labored long and hard, but throughout all this, your father had kept hold of his ring. Now, your father knew that since orcs love gold, if they caught your father with the ring, they would take it off him and he'd never see it again. He couldn't let that happen since it was the last thing his father had given to him. So, he thought to hide it, in the one place they'd never look: his arse! He put the ring up there and he hid it there for five years, because that was how long we were there. Like I said, while we were there we became good friends and he told me how he'd come by the ring and we made our pact. After all, you had been born shortly before we were captured! He knew that if he ever got out of the camp, he wanted me to give you the ring. So finally, five years later, soldiers from Gondor liberated the camp and we were set free. We then decided to go our separate ways, but he gave the ring to me, because he was worried about not making it home. Well, I'm very sorry to tell you that he didn't, he was ambushed by a pack of orcs and killed in the forests of Fangorn. It was your father's last wish that this ring should go to you; it passed from your ancestors Elendil to Isildur, it came to your grandfather Arador, who gave it to your father Arathorn II who gave it to me and now, little man, I give this ring, to you!"

Aragorn suddenly snapped awake; he was no longer a little boy anymore, but a grown man. He gasped, looking around wildly, remembering where he was. He could here cheering and shouting outside; the audience had arrived at the clubhouse for the fight! He felt a shudder of dread as his remembered the decision he had ahead of him. He tried to think of what he was going to do when suddenly, the answer came to him: he was going to fight and win! This dream and treasured memory from the past had come back and given Aragorn courage! He had come from a family of fighters who had protected a sacred ring with their lives for four generations, and he was not going to be the descendant that backed down from a fight. There and then, he made up his mind to fight and he realized that may be this dream, had come for a reason, and at the right time. Suddenly, the door to his changing room swung open and in the doorway stood Legolas.

"Aragorn, it's time!"

Aragorn nodded and stood up. The volume of the crowd was steadily increasing as he made his way out of the changing room, down the narrow passage and towards the fighting ring. He thought of Arwen again and longed for her embrace, but he put all thoughts of her quickly out of his mind as he approached the crowd and boxing ring; he had a fight to win!

Chapter 2: The Gold Ring

Gimli suddenly realized, just how cold the night had gotten. He'd been waiting in his carriage outside Elrond's fight club for several hours, but only now did he shiver bitterly, and quickly wrap a blanket around his hairy knees. Gimli stroked his long, dark brown beard and grumbled to himself. The dwarf didn't mind driving people all over Middle-Earth; that was his job, but he did mind waiting for hours on end in a cold alleyway for nothing. Also, it was getting late, and darker.

He was just getting ready to move his pony onwards when suddenly; a door in the side of the banquet hall opened and out dashed a large, sweaty man! The man made a B-line straight for Gimli's carriage. He was a tall, muscly man, with long, brown, greasy hair, an unshaved face, and wore nothing except a pair of worn-out, crimson boots, a scarlet, boxing robe, tattered, grey pants and bloody boxing wraps. He dashed over to Gimli's carriage, and hopped inside. This large, unannounced stranger took Gimli by surprise; he'd been told to expect a fighter and to drive him wherever he wanted, but he would've expected a little more notice first. He turned round to the sweaty stranger in the back of his carriage and growled out:

"Are you him?"

"What? Oh, yeah!"

"Where to?"

"Hobbiton, 'The Water', twelve Red Apple Cottage, fast!"

Gimli nodded his chubby, hairy face, whipped his pony into life, took hold of the rains, and set off for Hobbiton. Gimli couldn't have known, but this, was Aragorn.

Back inside the fight club, the aftermath of Aragorn's boxing match was unfolding because, as it turned out: Aragorn hadn't (as he had planned) lost the fight in the fifth round but had, in fact, won it in the fourth round and had accidentally killed his opponent, Gothmog! Now, in the dimly lit and overcrowded fight chamber, the body of Gothmog lay in the center of the ring. Next to the fallen Gothmog, knelt his goblin trainer, sobbing bitterly, and next to him stood the man himself: Lord Elrond! He rested his hand on the trainer's shoulder, shaking his head furiously. His face, once again, was almost totally obscured by the darkness of the room and he stood, staring down at his latest, disastrous venture. Suddenly, from the further side of the room came Elrond's personal servant Legolas. He slowly, and nervously approached the enraged elf lord.

"He's gone, Lord Elrond".

Elrond sighed to himself, pacing out into the center of the ring. Finally, he stopped, and the booming voice sounded in the deep of the catacombs:

"Ok, here's what I want you to do: I want you to put out a wanted poster on Aragorn and no matter where he goes, even if he goes to the Undying Lands, I want you to get someone to find the stone he crawled under and get his arse!"

However, unfortunately for Elrond, Aragorn was far, far away from Rivendell. He was, in fact, passing straight through the town of Brie, drawing ever closer, to Hobbiton and Arwen. It was pitch black outside and the only light to be found was inside the town houses at Brie, and inside Gimli's carriage, where a small lamp hung over his podgy head. Aragorn sat back in the carriage, stripping off his bloodied boxing wraps, sweat still pouring down his abs. His head was still spinning after the fight; it had been tougher than he'd anticipated and now he had only two things on his mind: rest and Arwen. Gimli however, had conversation on his mind; it was a lonely life driving a carriage in Middle-Earth and now he had a professional, Rivendell boxer sitting in his carriage. Also, after stopping off at the Prancing Pony Inn and listening to the locals, Gimli had a very serious and very personal question to ask this fighter in particular.

"Sir! Hey Sir!"

Aragorn craned his neck up at the butch dwarf driving the carriage. He was understandably tired and in no urgency to get talking to some dwarfish coach driver.

"What?"

"You're the fighter right?"

"What?"

"Yes, you're the fighter who was boxing at Elrond's, the human! You won the fight didn't you?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"You were fighting an orc weren't you?"

"Yeah, and?"

"I want to ask you a question ok?"

There was a small silence in the coach. Aragorn was in no desire to talk to him and Gimli was waiting for him to answer. Aragorn breathed a long sigh, he was exhausted and suddenly realized how much he wanted a smoke.

"What's your name?"

"Gimli son of Gloin!"

"Well Gimli, tell you what, give me a smoke of your pipe and I'll answer any question you want ok?"

Gimli buzzed happily; this meant he'd finally get his question answered.

"Oh, yes sir!"

The dwarf then removed his own, personal, little pipe, which already contained a large clump of pipe weed. He then handed it to Aragorn along with a match. Aragorn took the pipe, lit the match and took a long, relaxing puff. He breathed in the smoke and thought of how much he'd come through that evening. He then put down the pipe and turned to Gimli.

"Alright, so what's your question Gimli?"

"Well, when we stopped at the Pony I got talking to the locals and they told me what happened in the fight and so, my question is: what does it feel like to kill an orc?"

Aragorn was both bemused and a little disturbed by this question.

"What are you, some kind of creep?"

The dwarf chuckled to himself, realizing how odd his question sounded.

"No no, it's just a subject I have a lot of interest in. My father Gloin made a living hunting orcs but I never got to come along with him. Now, I have a man in my company who does just that and I want to know, what does it feel like to beat an orc to death with your bare hands?"

Aragorn paused to consider the question. He took another long puff from the pipe and sat back, pondering the night's events.

"I wouldn't know!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean until you told me, I didn't know Gothmog had died and now that I do, do you want to know how I feel?"

"Sure."

"It doesn't bother me in the slightest, and do you know why Gimli?"

The overweight dwarf shook his head.

"Because I'm a paid fighter, and after you've said that, you've said all there is to say about me. Now may be that warg-rider was a decent fighter once upon a time, but if he was, then his mud-made arse was dead before he even stepped inside the ring. I just put the poor ring-stealer out of his misery and if he wasn't a fighter; that's what he get's for messing with my sport!"

Gimli chuckled, heartily to himself as the carriage continued to rattle along it's way to Hobbiton and 'The Water'.

It was still pitch black outside when Aragorn and Gimli finally arrived in Hobbiton. Overjoyed, Aragorn jumped out the carriage. He was still troubled over the mess he was in, but he was happy because he was so close to seeing Arwen and being united with his most beloved one. He glanced at the wide, sweeping hills of Hobbiton, with its round, hobbit hole doors scattered about everywhere. It was a charming corner of the Shire to live in with a river running straight through the middle of the hills. This river was known as 'The Water' and it was here that Arwen lived. She lived in a small cottage that used to be a windmill, which stood on the other side of a small, stone bridge that hung across the river. It was only a small walk to Arwen's house from where Gimli was parked, but before Aragorn could go, he had to pay Gimli. He turned back to the carriage and looked at the merry dwarf.

"Look man, I got out of there so fast I forgot my-

"Don't worry about it, I'll just charge the bill to Elrond; I usually do. It was nice talking to you!"

Aragorn smiled at the dwarf. Gimli smiled back, he then took hold of the reins and once again steered his pony round, and off for Rivendell. Aragorn was suddenly alone, in the silent, cold night. Finally, he had arrived. He shivered; it was getting cold. He wrapped his cloak tighter around his shoulders and decided to make straight for Arwen's. Slowly, he plodded past the charming hobbit holes with their brightly decorated, round, front doors. He made his way down and round to the lower slopes of Hobbiton until he could hear rushing water. This was 'The Water' and in the distance, he could see Arwen's cottage. He smiled to himself happily; he knew the she-elf goddess was waiting for him. Tenderly he said to himself in Sindarin:

"Arwen nin mel, mín adventure begins".

These means: 'Arwen my love, our adventure begins'.

He strolled up to the front porch of the windmill. It was a large construction with sandstone walls and a thatched roof. To the side of the house there was a small stable; this was where Arwen kept her pony and tramp. Aragorn then bent down to a flowerpot on the porch and turned it over; underneath this was a spare key. He took it and smiled at it; this silly little object would take him straight to paradise. He fitted the key in to the lock and opened the front door. He strolled in. He was on the first floor where there was a small kitchenette, a cobblestone fireplace and two large armchairs. Around the armchairs there were several, large chests. These chests contained most of Aragorn's possessions from when Arwen had moved his stuff from Brie to her house. Slowly, he made his way up the stairs in the corner of the room. He walked up on tiptoes, until his head was poking out of the stairway and he could see the second floor and bedroom. It was a small and basic bedroom with a double bed in the center of the room, a small bookcase to the left of the bed and a small washroom to the right of the bed. He stepped off the staircase, into the bedroom and finally, he could see her. Arwen lay in the double bed on her side with her face obscured and only her luscious, long, chestnut hair and pointed ears showing from beneath the covers. Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief; he had come through so much in the past few days and now, he was finally looking at his Arwen, the true, girl of his dreams.

"Keep the lamps off".

When Arwen spoke, she purred tiredly but also sweetly, like a little kitten. Aragorn smiled.

"Ok baby".

Aragorn sighed and strolled over to the corner of the bedroom. Slowly, he removed his boots and slipped off his cloak. He sighed again; although he wanted to love Arwen desperately, he was still rather tired from the fight.

"Hard day in the fields baby?"

"Yes".

Aragorn strolled over to the bed and slowly lowered himself down and beside Arwen. How wonderful and magical it felt to be beside her again.

"Are you still retiring?"

"Yes".

"What about Gothmog, did you beat him?"

"Yes."

"Is he retiring too?"

Aragorn told a little, white lie in the spare of the moment; he didn't want Arwen knowing that he'd just fought, and killed his opponent.

"Yes, he's done for good".

Aragorn was tired of looking at the back of Arwen's head. He wanted to see her radiant beauty for which he'd traveled so far. So, he stretched his arm, out and over Arwen's tummy. Slowly and tenderly, he rolled her over till she was staring at him, face to face. His breath was almost taken away when he looked at her every time. She had a pale, slender face with cherry red cheeks and an adorable, button nose, and when Aragorn looked in here eyes; he saw a beautiful and bright morning. When he looked at her, he was calm and rational, when he was with her, all his problems some how seemed insignificant. He studied her face like a painter with his portrait, looking at every, breathtaking feature. She smiled at her lover as he sensually, yet amorously lay on top of her. Making love to his beautiful, elf goddess would come later, but now, he was just content to be with her. He looked in her eyes and slowly kissed her. His heart felt as if it might explode with all the amorous passion he was feeling as he continued with tender kiss, after tender kiss. He looked into her gorgeous eyes and truly felt whole. He smiled as he lay on top of her, contentedly staring into the face of the one who he would happily die for. Arwen was (unlike Aragorn) not really someone who appreciated just staring at people she loved for no, apparent reason. She thought of making conversation.

"I looked at myself in the looking glass today".

Aragorn couldn't have been less concerned over such trivial things but he still wanted to let her know that he cared about every little event in her day.

"Uh huh?"

"And, I wished that I had a pot belly".

"What?"

"You heard, I want a pot belly".

"Why would you want that?"

"Pot bellies on girls are sexy".

"Do you want me to get a pot belly, is that what you're saying?"

Arwen was a little annoyed by Aragorn, who was so obviously toying with her.

"No you nave! Pot bellies don't work on men; they either make them look oafish or lazy, but if women and particularly she-elves have pot bellies: it looks playful and cute!"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far, personally".

"Well, it's just a shame that what we she-elves find sexy isn't what you men jerks find sexy!"

"Hey!"

Arwen chuckled naughtily, as Aragorn tickled her along her rib cage, playfully. He then stopped and looked into her big, doe eyes again. Slowly and sensually, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her in closer to him. He kissed her again, passionately, but Arwen was still interested in talk.

"So it all worked out in the finish?"

"We're not at the finish yet baby doll!"

There was a short silence as Arwen realized what this meant.

"We're in a lot of danger, aren't we?"

Aragorn didn't have the heart to say yes, so he nodded.

"If they find us, they'll kill us both won't they?"

Aragorn solemnly nodded again.

"But they're not going to find us, are they, I mean, once we leave for Erebor and Laketown?"

Aragorn now shook his head. Arwen was reassured by this but there was a worrying thought that had been growing in the back of her mind: may be Aragorn didn't want her to go along with him, and that may be he was just expecting to leave her in Hobbiton on her own.

"Do you still want me to go with you?"

Aragorn was both happy at the thought of leaving all his problems with her, but he was also saddened that his princess was in-doubt over his desire to be with her. Passionately, he kissed her again, trying to calm her down and reassure her that he would leave with her, or not leave at all. Arwen was touched by Aragorn's show of affection for her, but she needed to hear it.

"Say it Aragorn!"

"Arwen, I want to be with you!"

"Forever?"

"And ever after!"

Arwen was reassured by Aragorn's honesty, but the last few days had been so unsure and now that she finally had Aragorn to herself, she wanted to hear just how much he wanted her.

"Do you love me Aragorn?"

"Yes".

Arwen then made a naughty, little innuendo to her lover:

"Will your dragon fly into Erebor?"

"Yes".

Aragorn smiled amorously; he had been waiting for so long to be with Arwen and love her, and now that moment had come. He began to kiss her neck tenderly, but passionately. Arwen whispered (like Aragorn) in Sindarin:

"Aragorn nin mel, mín adventure begins".

The couple made love for a good portion of the evening, which was quickly approaching morning. They moved as one, kindling all their passion, love and care for each other. It was something magical between them and now, they lay resting side by side, as the early morning sun, peeked it's head over the horizon. Arwen however, quickly grew restless and strolled off to the washroom to look at herself (again) in the mirror. Aragorn still lay, sleeping in bed. She looked at herself solemnly, wondering and picturing herself with an enlarged (or pot) belly. She stood like this for a little while but then remembered that she had something to tell Aragorn, something very important: She was pregnant with Aragorn's child! She poked her head round the corner of the washroom.

"Aragorn?"

She saw how soundly Aragorn slept and didn't have the heart to wake him with such joyous news; there would be time enough for that in the future.

Arwen was now dressed in her usual day robe and wondered around the bedroom with a book in her hand while Aragorn still lay in bed, asleep. It was now early morning and Arwen was hungry. Ever since she'd found out that she was with child, she'd been hungrier than usual. As soon as Aragorn was awake, she was determined that they'd both go for breakfast together at The Green Dragon: Hobbiton's answer to The Prancing Pony. She looked at Aragorn, tenderly; they'd shared a magical night together. Everything seemed all right, until Aragorn suddenly woke up with a jump. Arwen was startled as Aragorn looked around wildly; he'd had a nightmare.

"Are you all right, you startled me?"

Aragorn realized where he was.

"Fine, you all right?"

"What was it about?"

"What?"

"The dream, dummy!"

Aragorn had remembered the dream being an imagination of how his father, Arathorn II had died, but he didn't want Arwen bothered with such things. He sat up in bed, rubbing his still rather tired eyelids.

"Oh, I don't remember!"

"Oh really?"

Arwen smiled playfully, she strolled over to the bed. She then climbed up and lay on top of Aragorn. She stroked his strong, powerful arms and kissed him sweetly. Aragorn smiled at her, she smiled back.

"Now, come on lazy joints! How about, we get dressed, and go for breakfast at The Green Dragon, just the two of us?"

"All right, but first I have to make a couple of plans".

"What sort of plans?"

"Well Arwen, I have to map out our root to Erebor, it's going to be a long journey and I want to get as much distance between us and Rivendell as possible, ok?"

Arwen smiled, satisfied with this response. She climbed off him and descended the stairs. Aragorn sat back, contended, but still worrying about all the trouble that could come crashing down on him at any moment.

Downstairs, Arwen was reading in an armchair by the fire as Aragorn dressed himself. He put on a clean, white shirt and long, grey trousers. He then took out a map, compass, quill and paper and laid all of them out on the living room table. He then began studying the journey from Hobbiton to Erebor. It was a long journey, and a hard journey, and though they intended to live in Erebor, Aragorn knew that they would probably have to live in Laketown for a while.

"Mapping out the route baby?"

Aragorn looked at Arwen, standing over by the fireplace.

"Yep!"

He turned back to the Middle-Earth map and his journey calculations, but then looked up at Arwen again.

"So what are you going to have for breakfast?"

"I'm thinking a small plate of blueberry scones, followed by a plate of sausages and eggs with toast and mushrooms, and after that I'll have a big slice of pumpkin pie!"

"Wow, that's quite a lot there, what about to drink?"

"Oh, a big pint of milk and a small cup of tea, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect baby!"

Aragorn had written all the notes he would need for the journey down in his notebook. He then went over to his carrier chests and began opening them up. He looked inside one of them, when suddenly, a look of panic came across his face; something was wrong! He opened all the chests up and began looking through their contents, frantically.

"Where is it Arwen?"

Arwen was blissfully unaware.

"Where's what?"

"The ring: my father's ring, where is it?"

"It's there!"

Aragorn's tone began to get louder as he continued his interrogation and search.

"No it's not, I've looked!"

Aragorn was getting mad; even though he loved Arwen very much, that ring had been handed down to him from generation after generation and it was more than precious to him. Arwen could tell Aragorn was getting grumpier than usual, but she dismissed it as simple frustration over not being able to find his ring. Aragorn now stood up and turned to Arwen, angry.

"What on earth do you think I'm doing Arwen? Are you sure you got it?"

Arwen was taken aback by this intense and unexpected mood change. She had never seen Aragorn so angry and now, her voice began to shake as she tried to answer his questions.

"Uuuh… Yes, on your bedside table next to the lamp!"

Aragorn would not let up on Arwen. The longer he continued without the ring, the angrier he was getting.

"Well it's not here now!"

Arwen was afraid, and now on the verge of tears as she answered:

"Well it should be Aragorn".

Aragorn had become very agitated but he now lowered his tone. This was supposed to give Arwen a little more confidence but in truth, it only made her more afraid.

"Arwen, that ring was very precious to me. My father gave it to me; do you have any idea what he did to protect that ring? I don't want to get in to it right now but the point is he went through a lot to protect it for me. Now, of all the stuff that didn't matter, I specifically reminded you to get my ring. Now think, did you get the ring?"

"I believe so…"

"You believe so? You either did, or you didn't, now which one is it?"

"Then I did".

Aragorn was getting angrier at every answer Arwen gave.

"Are you sure?"

Nervously and shaking, Arwen replied. Things had been going so well that morning, but over this small ring, things had things had become awful!

"No".

This made Aragorn snap! He roared in fury, swatting the air with his fists; he would never hurt Arwen but he was just so angry! This terrified Arwen, who backed into a corner, squealing pitifully. Over by the front door, there was a golden clock. Aragorn took hold of it, and hurled it at the opposite wall. There was an explosion as the clock shattered into several, large pieces, with cogs and machinery rolling everywhere. Arwen sat on the floor, screaming and shaking terribly. Aragorn stopped and looked around himself; his anger had ceased. He suddenly realized (to his horror), how he had treated his beloved Arwen. He felt bitter shame and grief at how he had yelled at her. He quickly plodded over to her and bent down on one knee.

"No, it's not your fault! You left it at my Brie longhouse!"

Her hands were folded on her lap and as Aragorn touched her hand, she flinched like a scared, little bunny. This wounded Aragorn to his core, thinking he had lost her love forever. He took her hands reassuringly and kissed them, softly. Arwen looked up at him with her terrified, doe eyes. He smiled at her.

"If you did leave it at the longhouse in Brie, it's not your fault; I had you bring a lot of stuff over, but I didn't illustrate how personal that ring was to me. I should've told you".

He kissed her hands again and rose. Arwen still sat on the floor, sniffling sadly. She was still shaken, but gradually regaining her confidence and admiration for Aragorn. Aragorn then went to the front door. Up on the clothes pegs next to the door hung his leather, chestnut coat. He took it off the peg and pulled it on. Arwen shakily spoke out from the corner:

"I'm sorry".

Aragorn smiled, this time, genuinely inspiring confidence.

"Don't be sorry baby. It just means I won't be able to have breakfast with you at The Green Dragon".

"Why does it mean that Aragorn?"

"Because, I'm going back to Brie to get my ring".

"Won't Elrond's Galadhrim's be looking for you there?"

"That's what I'm going to find out. If they are there and I don't think I can handle them, I'll leave".

Arwen was terrified by this prospect and rose up off the floor, approaching Aragorn timidly.

"Please, Aragorn! I don't want you to be murdered over some silly ring!"

Aragorn wasn't scared in the slightest, continuing to smile at his beloved Arwen.

"One, it's not a silly ring. Two, I'm not going to be murdered. And Three, I won't let anything get in the way of us living a happy life together in Erebor".

Aragorn suddenly took hold of Arwen by her shoulders and pulled her in close. He then held her face in his hands as he reassured her:

"Don't feel bad gold berry. Nothing you could ever do would make me permanently angry with you. I love you, remember?"

Aragorn then took his money purse off the dining table and handed it to Arwen.

"Now here's my purse, order those scones and have a great breakfast baby".

He then turned to the door but before he could leave, Arwen called to him again, pleading:

"Don't go".

"I'll be back before you can say, pumpkin pie".

"Pumpkin pie".

Aragorn smiled, looking at his elf princess.

"Well maybe not that fast, but fast. Ok? Ok?"

Quietly, and trying to muster a smile, Arwen replied:

"Ok".

Aragorn then took his leave of his lady by kissing her on the lips and opened the front door.

"Bye gold berry!"

"Bye".

"I've got to take your carriage ok?"

"Ok".

Finally, Aragorn walked out the front door, closing it behind himself. He went round to the stable, tethered the pony to the carriage, took hold of the reins and set off for Brie. Arwen was finally left alone, staring at their little living room. She again felt like crying, but this time it wasn't because she was afraid of Aragorn, but because she was afraid for him, and was desperate for him to return to her and for them to start their lives in Erebor together. However, for the moment, she was on her own, panicking.

Aragorn however, was speeding the pony and carriage along the roads that would lead him to Brie and his longhouse. He wasn't angry with Arwen anymore, but he was frustrated with the fact that he was driving straight into the jaws of danger, because she had forgotten his ring.

"I told her again and again! I specifically reminded her! Arwen, do not forget my father's golden ring that rests on my bedside table!"

It was late morning when Aragorn pulled into Brie with his carriage. There were people all over the streets and livestock being driven through the town, as he drove the carriage through the alleyways and past gardens. It amused him how only last night he had been driven through these streets.

He had been driving for a while when he finally came to his longhouse. His house was an ordinary thatched longhouse with tall walls and an oak door. Slowly, he drove the carriage and pony round the side of the house and parked both at the back of the longhouse. He was expecting trouble, and he was expecting someone to be waiting for him inside. Slowly, he descended from the carriage and made his way to the front of his house. He pushed over the flowerpot that sat by the door and removed the key that sat under it. He inserted the key into the lock and cautiously, turned it in the lock. He opened the door, expecting an explosion of gunfire or crossbow bolt, but to his relief, he found that the first floor was abandoned. He breathed a sigh of relief, came in, and shut the door behind himself. He looked around his dusty thatched cottage and headed for the stairs.

Slowly and carefully, Aragorn made his way up the stairs and onto the second floor. Again, he expected trouble but found none. With the stealth of a panther, Aragorn stalked over to his bedside table and there, waiting for him, was his father's ring. How beautifully it glowed in the dusk of the bedroom. It seemed to whisper to him now and as he picked up the ring, the whispering became distinctly audible. He was both amused and a little disturbed by this presence that seemed to dwell around the ring, but thinking little of it, he slipped it into his trouser pocket. He felt a buzz of joy; now that he had his father's prized ring, he could return home to Arwen. However, he suddenly realized how hungry he was and that he had in fact, totally missed breakfast. On the second floor, was Aragorn's toiletry (a wooden box with a hole in the center where one would relieve oneself, and where that person's unmentionables would be drained to the sink hole out back) and a small kitchenette.

He strolled over to the kitchenette and searched for something to eat. He found a stale loaf of bread, not a great substitute for bacon and eggs, but a substitute nonetheless. He took a large chomp out of the loaf and chewed, dejectedly. He stood for a moment, thinking to himself when, something caught his eye. It lay on the counter of the kitchenette long, black and lethal: a mac-ten submachine gun, with a silencer on the end. Aragorn couldn't believe that he hadn't spotted this sooner, but things suddenly dawned on him: someone was already waiting for him in the longhouse and this was their weapon of choice. This person had come to kill him by order of Lord Elrond!

Quickly, Aragorn strolled over and lifted up the heavy machine gun. He studied its long, black barrel when suddenly he heard something: the wooden lid on the top of his toiletry box closed shut. Aragorn realized that whoever this assassin was, they had been caught short and had been forced to use Aragorn's toiletry. He also realized that this assassin was decidedly absent-minded, to leave his or her only weapon out for anyone to pick up. Aragorn aimed the machine gun at the door to the toiletry, waiting for this assassin to come out.

Suddenly, the door opened and out came the assassin: it was the small, brown-haired hobbit that Aragorn had come so close to striking at Elrond's banquet hall, Frodo Baggins. Frodo, with a tattered book in his hand, was about to stroll out to the kitchenette when he suddenly spotted Aragorn, standing in front of him. He froze solid, panic in his eyes, thinking about what he should do next. Aragorn recognized this rude little shire rat. He glared at Frodo, unflinchingly. He didn't want to kill Frodo but a burning fury was stirring inside him against this hobbit that had come to take him away from Arwen. He finger froze on the trigger; these two were having a standoff!

In the corner of the room hung a cuckoo clock. It was one of the few things Aragorn had kept from Théoden's house when he had stayed with him and it had been ticking contentedly until suddenly the hour arm rested upon ten. The clock's mechanism clicked into place, the little cuckoo came out and cheeps exploded from its mouth. This was all that was needed for Aragorn to react. Almost accidentally; Aragorn's finger squeezed the machine gun's trigger!

There was a short, explosive burst as the bullet's hit Frodo square in the chest. Frodo was taken off his feet by the force of the gun, squealing as he flew backwards into the toiletry. Aragorn continued to stand still with the smoking machine gun, glaring at where the hobbit had been standing. He was sorry that this hobbit had died but not completely remorseful, after all, this hobbit had come to kill him! The door of the toiletry swayed open and there was Frodo, his black tunic and the walls of the closet stained with blood; Frodo was dead!

Aragorn made a fast exit out of the longhouse and went round to the back, where he untethered the carriage and pony, jumped onto the driving seat once again, took hold of the reins, and began driving the pony towards Brie's Main Street.

As the little carriage rattled along its way down Main Street, passing the locals, Aragorn smiled to himself; he'd made it out of things unscathed and now, he could continue home and back to Arwen. Then, they could both leave for a new life together in Erebor. Yes, he was always going to be looking over his shoulder, and yes, he had little money left to support Arwen, but they had each other and that was all that mattered to Aragorn. He smiled to himself as he drove the carriage onwards.

"That's how you're going to beat them Aragorn, they keep underestimating you!"

His carriage was just passing the stables at the back of The Prancing Pony when he was forced to stop as a group of dwarves crossed the road. They were fat and butch, just like Gimli who'd been driving him the other night. Another person was crossing the road when Aragorn looked down at the valiant, little pony that'd been ferrying him as the stranger crossed the road. However, this person didn't move on like the dwarves but stopped in the middle of the busy street. Aragorn noticed that this shadow wasn't moving, so he glanced up from looking at the pony. He was rendered almost speechless by the person he saw standing in the middle of the road; it was none other than Lord Elrond himself! He had stopped in the middle of the road while carrying a mug of ale and a small plate of blueberry scones, and he now stood, staring directly at Aragorn in his carriage. Neither man moved in that moment; they just stared at each other. Aragorn had never actually seen Elrond in daylight and now, it was almost as if he was seeing him for the first time: he had a thin but hard face, with opposing, grey eyes, large, pointed ears and long, luscious locks of chestnut-colored hair. He wore long, white robes with a golden waistcoat and golden slippers. In short, he dressed like a king! Aragorn suddenly felt a strange but incredible rush of emotions as he beheld Elrond in the street: he felt fear as he came face to face with the man who ruled over Middle-Earth and him, he felt sadness as he considered the fact that now, he might never see Arwen again, but most of all, he now felt a boiling and furious rage as he sat in front of the man who had sent men to kill him and who would have willingly prevented him from reaching his beloved Arwen! Elrond continued to stare at him, uttering only one phrase:

"Son of a warg!"

Aragorn's fury took hold of him and he knew exactly what to do: he gripped the pony's rains and whipped him with them hard! The pony suddenly came into life and charged at full pace towards Elrond in the middle of the road. Elrond realized what Aragorn was trying to do and knew he had little time (if any) to react. He began sprinting back to the front door of The Prancing Pony as Aragorn's carriage charged towards him! The pony charged on, but by the time it had come to where Elrond was, Elrond had moved out the way. However, Elrond had not moved out of the way completely and before he could reach The Pony's front door, he was hit full force by the side of Aragorn's carriage! Elrond was suddenly flying through the air, and came down hard into a large barrel that lay in the street next to The Pony's front door! Elrond lay there, trying to catch his breath as he writhed in agony. People gasped all over the Main Street as they beheld Aragorn's attempted murder of this apparently unarmed and innocent elf. Aragorn didn't bother to look back but continued to drive the carriage onwards. However, as he looked onwards, he saw something in the middle of the road that made his blood freeze: a stray barrel! With all his might, he pulled to the left of the road, trying to get the pony and carriage past the barrel. The pony road on, and for a short period, so did the carriage, however, the rear right wheel of the wagon did not, and smashed straight into the barrel! This catapulted the carriage, turning it up and over the barrel! The pony broke loose but Aragorn was not so lucky! Along with the carriage, Aragorn was propelled through the air and came down with a thunderous crash as the remainder of carriage landed on its side in the middle of the road!

Various strangers crouched around Elrond and as he lay in the dirt and wreckage of the barrel, they asked if he was all right and if he wanted to call for a Galadhrim. Elrond was not bothered about such things. He wheezed, bitterly as he sat up and looked down the road at the wreckage of Aragorn's carriage. He realized that Frodo had probably failed and that Aragorn had probably killed him! He however, was not going to let Aragorn walk away from this! Slowly and painfully, he stood up as people began to whisper all around him, still concerned.

Aragorn came to, lying in the wreckage of the carriage. Pain was throbbing in his arms, legs and primarily, his nose. He felt for his nose and saw blood on the ends of his fingertips; his nose was broken! He would worry about such things later; he had left Elrond lying in the road back at the Pony, possibly alive and now, had people ordering for Galadhrims to come and arrest him! He slowly and agonizingly sat up, pawing at the canvas of the wrecked carriage. He managed to get to his legs and slowly stumbled out into the road and daylight. His head was swimming as he looked around his surroundings: the houses, the street, the passing farm stock, and Elrond! Elrond stumbled forward and before anyone could do anything, he had removed a chrome, automatic, Smith and Wesson, four five zero six pistol. People began screaming as Elrond aimed it at Aragorn! Aragorn saw this and before he had a chance to throw up or faint, threw himself into a full-pelt run down a Main Street alleyway. There were loud explosions as Elrond fired twice, missing Aragorn both times! Then, still clutching his pistol and throbbing head, Elrond gave chase after Aragorn!

Aragorn raced down the street as fast as he could; things had spiraled out of control on this outing in Brie! He thought of Arwen and how distraught she would be if she could see him now, but knew he had no choice but to keep running. Elrond was (himself) dashing down the street and was almost on Aragorn! However, Aragorn had a plan: he would hide in any open establishment he could find and then, when Elrond came in, he would jump him! He saw only one establishment that looked remotely open: it was a large, thatched cottage with fenced-up windows, a large, metal door and a large, wooden sign that read: 'FARAMIR'S BLACKSMITH & METALWORKS SHOP'. This would do! Aragorn charged straight for the door and suddenly burst into the blacksmith's without warning. This caught the owner Faramir (a fair-haired human with a slim, unshaved face and blue eyes) totally unaware! He stepped back from behind the counter as Aragorn came in, yelling:

"What do you think you're doing in my shop? Get out of here now!"

Aragorn snarled:

"Be quiet!"

"Excuse me?" 

This rude and potentially violent stranger took Faramir aback. Aragorn however, was more concerned with his present surroundings and the oncoming Elrond. The inside of the blacksmith's contained large racks full of swords, spears and axes. These, Aragorn thought, might come in useful for dispatching Elrond but since there was a basement door over to the left of the room, Aragorn was left with the decision of fight or hide! He decided to go with the former, but thought he would have a better chance of success by tackling Elrond with his hands; he was after all, a boxer first! He waited, when suddenly the door exploded open again, and in-bounded Elrond! Aragorn, who had been waiting just behind the door, saw his chance and before Elrond could react, Aragorn was on him! He grabbed Elrond's wrist, twisting it hard so that he dropped the gun quickly. Aragorn kicked it aside and pulled Elrond down onto the floor. Then, Aragorn jumped on him, punching him hard, again and again in the face! All the frustration and anguish he'd suffered that morning went into those punches as he hit out, until Elrond lay silent, with his eyes half-closed. He couldn't let Elrond walk away from this. He picked up Elrond's chrome pistol and pointed it at his face. He aimed it and pulled back the hammer.

"Sorry Elrond".

He prepared himself. His finger was just on the edge of the trigger when suddenly; he heard a loud metallic snap as the shopkeeper yelled at him:

"Hold it! Don't you move!"

Slowly, Aragorn looked over to the counter and saw Faramir, pointing a large, shotgun straight at his head. He had a crazy look in his eye, and Aragorn realized that he was helpless in this situation.

"Look man take it easy! You don't know what you're-

The shopkeeper bellowed at him:

"Don't you tell me what I don't and do know! Now, you drop that gun, kick it away and get off him slowly!"

Aragorn knew this type; if he tried anything, this punk would blow his head off! He dropped the gun and kicked it away. Then, slowly, he climbed off the battered Elrond and sat on the floor. Faramir cautiously came round from behind the counter and strolled over to Aragorn. Then, taking the butt of his shotgun, he hit Aragorn in the back of the head, hard! Aragorn slumped forward with a groan, unconscious! Elrond was still awake but only just; he could hardly keep his eyes open. Faramir picked Elrond's gun up and stuffed it in into the belt of his trousers. He then walked over to the wall next to the counter. There was a small, grey window that looked up to the sky and just below that, hung a large, white horn on a string. Faramir laid the shotgun on the counter top and opened the window. He took the horn off the peg, put it to his lips and blew hard. The workshop felt as if it were shaking as the horn exploded with sound. Faramir then put the horn down on the counter table. He looked down at his two captives and smiled wickedly to himself.

"Looks like Shelob's caught herself a couple of hobbits!"

Though he was nearly passed out, Elrond could both see and hear this man and though he had saved Elrond's life, Elrond now realized that he had actually walked into something much worse than his primary situation. Then, finally, his eyes closed and he fell into a deep unconsciousness.

It was a cold, wet shock that woke the pair up. Faramir had thrown a bucket of water at them and when they awoke, they found themselves bound, gagged and tied to chairs in the basement of the blacksmith's. Aragorn and Elrond sat, side-by-side in the blacksmith's, dimly lit, cobblestone basement. They looked at each other; both were in pain, both were afraid and both didn't know what was going to come next. Aragorn's nose still burned, but the pain had dulled over his flight through the streets of Brie. He thought of Arwen and how badly his morning had gone. He also felt guilty; he'd promised her that he was going to come back and now (depending on the blacksmith's intentions) he was probably never going to see her ever again. Elrond still felt that his battered head was swimming as he leaned forward in his chair. He couldn't believe how this mission of vengeance had left him in such a position. Both slowly looked at each other. A little while ago they had been ready to kill each other and now, it was weirdly different; in this situation, they were equal. Faramir put down the water bucket and picked up his shotgun, he leaned it across his shoulders tauntingly. He also had Elrond's handgun stuffed into his breaches.

"As soon as Boromir gets here: the festivities will begin!"

Elrond and Aragorn looked at each other; neither knew what this meant or who "Boromir" was but they knew the "festivities" were not going to be good ones.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Faramir looked upwards and smiled.

"That's Boromir".

He left them both in the basement and trotted upstairs to open the door. There was a loud, metal clunk, and the sound of raised voices. Aragorn strained in his restraints; they were just a tad loose. Elrond looked at Aragorn and also tried to see if he could move at all, he couldn't, and neither could talk. In short, they were trusted up, as helpless as turkeys! The door to the basement opened again, and faint traces of daylight could be seen as these two, sinister strangers descended the stairs. They finally arrived in the basement. Both Elrond and Aragorn studied this new stranger with tense concentration. He was tall and like the owner Faramir, had long hair and an unshaved face. His features were also similar and the pair correctly deduced that this must be Faramir's brother. He paced forward and got a good look at his brother's captives. He pointed at them.

"Did you start beating them already?"

"No, they did that to each other".

This Boromir smiled to himself as he pulled up a stool in front of the pair. He sat down and looked directly at Elrond. There was something deeply unsettling about his gaze and Elrond shifted, nervously. Boromir smoothed his hair back and turned to his brother.

"Well, bring out the Gollum!"

Neither Elrond nor Aragorn knew what on earth this could mean but guessed that there was a third stranger in this accursed workshop. Faramir tuned to his brother and whispered, nervously:

"But the Gollum's sleeping!"

Boromir smiled at his brother and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Well I guess you're just going to have to go and wake him up now aren't you?"

Dejectedly, Faramir turned to the second door of the basement (in the corner) and walked towards it. He opened it and closed it behind him, quietly. Aragorn and Elrond were left with Boromir, who continued to stair at Elrond and in particular, Elrond's luscious, yet dirty, long hair. He then looked to Aragorn and smiled. Aragorn glared at the stranger; how he wished he could deck these creeps and leave for Arwen.

Suddenly, the second door opened and in stumbled Faramir and the creature that had been referred to as "the Gollum". Aragorn and Elrond were taken aback by the spectacle of the hellish creature that Faramir pulled into the main room of the basement. The creature was deathly thin with pale, white, disgusting skin, large, crazed, fish eyes and flat, webbed feet and hands. It had a little grey hair, which was draped across its pale scalp and wrangled, yet pointed ears. This was a truly devilish creature that Faramir lead on into the main room of the basement with a string, and it snarled ferociously at the two, terrified captives. Faramir had trouble keeping it in line as it lurched forward to sit next to Boromir. It sat down on its webbed feet, eyeing Aragorn and Elrond, aggressively. Boromir laid his hand, flat on top of the creature's scalp friendlily. This "Gollum" continued to stare at the two and suddenly, he snarled out:

"We wants to eats them precious, we wants to!"

Boromir turned to the creature.

"I know, I know you want to eat them, but not just yet ok? We're going to have a little merriment with them first ok? And after we have our fun with them, then you can eats them all you want ok?"

The creature smiled wickedly to itself.

"Good master, Sméagol obey!"

The creature then let out a horrendous guttural cough that sounded like the very word 'Gollum'.

"Well that's good, good Sméagol".

Aragorn and Elrond were both mystified and terrified by this horrible, little ghoul, but they were more afraid at the prospect of "merriment". Faramir wrestled the creature back and bent down to his brother.

"Which one do you want to do first?"

Boromir then leaned forward and pointed at his two captives.

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe! Catch an Elf-Lord by his toe! If he hollers, let him go! Eeny, meeny, miny, moe!"

As he repeated these strange little lyrics, he pointed his finger from Aragorn to Elrond, to Aragorn back to Elrond, and finally, his finger rested on Elrond. Boromir smiled and so did Faramir. Elrond shuddered nervously. Boromir turned to his brother.

"Alright, take this one and leave the Gollum with this one".

Faramir nodded and tethered Gollum's lead to a nearby wall peg. Gollum wrestled to escape and get at the prisoners. Aragorn was afraid of what was going to happen next. Faramir then turned to Elrond, removed a knife from his back pocket and cut through Elrond's restraints. He then lifted Elrond up and along with Boromir, the two brothers and Elrond walked round to the second door of the basement. They opened the door, went through to the next room, and closed the door behind them.

Suddenly, Aragorn was alone with Gollum. He stared nervously at this vile little troglodyte as it bit and spat at him. Aragorn wasn't so bothered about him since he was (for the moment) tethered to the wall hook; he was more bothered about what Faramir and Boromir were doing to Elrond in the opposite room. However, he dismissed such thoughts from his mind; he had only two people to look out for: himself and Arwen. Elrond had tried to take him away from her and now he was paying the price! Aragorn resolved to focus all his energy and attention on escaping his present, hellish environment. He felt for the tough piece of rope that bound his hands at the back of the chair. It was slightly loose, but he knew that if he tried to get out of it, Gollum would raise the alarm. He needed a distraction, something, anything that could give him time to get out of his restraints! Suddenly, he remembered the one thing he had kept in his trouser pocket after stopping off at his longhouse: his father's ring! He suddenly remembered how Thranduil had told him in his dream, that the ring was powerful. His heart sank as he though that may be the brothers had confiscated it, but was relieved beyond belief when he felt it out in his left, trouser pocket. He breathed a sigh of relief through his gag and pushed his fingers down and into his pocket. He felt the ring and slowly, and steadily, he pulled it out of his pocket. Finally, he removed it and clasped it in his fingers. He could hear raised voices in the room next door, and wondered what atrocities were going on. Suddenly, Gollum snarled out at him again, wriggling furiously.

"We wants it precious! We wants to eats it precious!"

Aragorn had no intention of becoming this little monster's next meal but had no idea what to do next. He held the ring and finally, prepared to slide it onto his left, index finger. He sighed to himself, thinking: here goes naught, and slid the ring onto his finger!

It was an almost otherworldly experience when Aragorn put on the ring. Suddenly, everything became more dark and grey and wavy, as if he were looking at things through a waterfall. He could also hear a whispering in his ears, as if he were listening to a ballad performed by a snake. The whispering was in the Mordor tongue and rather unsettled Aragorn, but he was still intrigued by the power of this little ring. Aragorn had never experienced anything like it. No wonder his ancestors had fought to protect this ring; it was truly magical! He forced a smile through his gag as he stared at Gollum who looked around wildly, muttering ferociously to himself:

"Where is it precious? Where's the nasty little manses gone?"

It was at this moment that an overjoyed Aragorn realized to himself that this little ring had in fact turned him invisible! Aragorn could not belief his luck; this was all he needed to get out and then he could return to his beloved Arwen! However, he was still not out of the woods yet; he had to get out first! He began again to wrestle with his restraints, moving them off his wrists, a little at a time. He could feel them moving and getting looser all the time. All the while, Gollum was snarling and looking around wildly. Aragorn's restraints were now loose enough for him to grab hold of them with his fingers and pull them off. The rope fell to the floor and Aragorn could now feel his freed wrists; he could move his arms! He then reached with his invisible hands to the rope that bound his torso and with almost childish ease; he pulled it loose, and then off. Finally, he stood, looking down at the snarling Gollum.

"Where is it precious, where is it? Where's it gone?"

Aragorn knew that if he didn't silence this monster now, he would have to deal with Boromir and Faramir as well. So, he paced over to where Gollum struggled and with experienced accuracy, he punched Gollum, full force on the side of the head. Gollum collapsed to the ground, unconscious! He looked down, satisfied, and finally, slipped off his treasured ring. Suddenly, the blurry darkness of the ring's cover ended, and he was in normal life again. Now, he could leave, turning to the door of the basement, and with the finesse of a panther, he ascended the basement stairs. Bright daylight greeted him as he arrived on the ground floor of the blacksmith's. He felt a strong but uneasy sense of joy as he prepared to leave. He pulled the gag out of his mouth and tossed it aside; he was free! He paced over to the front door and took hold of the handle. Slowly, he turned it and prepared to leave when suddenly, he stopped. He could hear a low whimpering coming from the back room in the basement. He recognized this as coming from Elrond and suddenly, he felt an unexplainable rush of compassion. He was off to freedom and a new life with the one he loved, but he was leaving Elrond to torment and death. He couldn't explain why he felt such compassion for his enemy, but slowly, he closed the front door. He had come to an adamant decision (like he had before his boxing fight): to save Elrond!

He realized he would need a weapon if he was going to tackle the brothers but Faramir had taken both his shotgun and Elrond's pistol, down into the basement with him. He had no choice but to pick up one of the blacksmith's weapons. He walked over to one of the many weapon cabinets that lined the interior of the blacksmith's and began searching for his weapon. He picked up a club, too heavy! He picked up a dwarfish axe, too awkward! He lifted up a Galadhrim's lance, too long for basement combat! He knew he needed a broadsword. He looked over each weapon when finally, he saw the ideal weapon of choice: a long, recently sharpened, silver broadsword. There was a nametag on its hilt that read "GLAMDRING". Slowly and quietly, he lifted up the hefty battle sword. It was perfect; heavy but not too heavy, as sharp as required and with a long reach too. Aragorn smiled, he gripped its hilt firmly and slowly but surely, once again, descended the stairs to the basement.

He prowled down to the room where he had sat captive and passed the unconscious Gollum. However, as he moved towards the back room, he could hear Elrond's apparent sobbing growing in volume. He could also hear the two brothers, sadistically chuckling to each other. He had no idea what they were doing to Elrond but knew he that he would soon rain his vengeance upon the pair of them.

He had reached the door and suddenly stopped hard; he knew that if he went in on his own, he would probably die. So, he reached into his pocket and once again, put on his father's most treasured ring. Suddenly, he was invisible once again! Aragorn mustered all the courage he could and taking a deep breath, began to turn the handle of the door till finally, the door to the back room opened. The sight that greeted him was as disturbing as it was bewildering: Faramir watched and chuckled as Boromir, strand by strand, began to cut off all of Elrond's gorgeous hair! Elrond now had a virtually bald scalp that was bleeding in several places, but continued to sob as the two brothers cackled to each other and continued to mock him. Aragorn certainly wasn't an elf but knew how much pride and honor elves took in the upkeep of their hair, and how much respect they commanded with it, and he became totally enraged as he beheld these two, vile, elf-hating brothers, taking away Elrond's true, elvish dignity. They had reduced this tough, Rivendell lord to a blubbering wreck, and it made Aragorn both sick and furious to watch.

So, he began to plan out his next move. Faramir had left his shotgun by the door and Elrond's pistol lay on top of a chest over by Boromir. If he dispatched Faramir quickly enough, he would be able to creep up on Boromir as well. Finally, Aragorn resolved to put his plan into action and, pointing Glamdring's blade directly at Faramir, Aragorn began to creep towards Faramir. Faramir was too busy laughing to notice Aragorn's footsteps, or the opened door, and continued to chuckle at Elrond's torment. Aragorn was now within perfect striking distance and slowly raised the sword above Faramir's back. He knew that Faramir could not see him, so, he readied himself, as the electrifying adrenaline pulsed through his veins. His muscles tensed as he aimed his sword at Faramir and then, finally, he blinked and the sword descended! It was a quick but deadly blow that sliced clean through Faramir's back. Faramir suddenly stopped laughing and winced in pain as a long, bloody line now ran from his left shoulder to his right hip. Aragorn knew that he had Faramir and it was with his second, equally destructive blow, that Aragorn finished off Faramir; the sword cut into Faramir's rib, who screamed out in pain and collapsed to the floor, dead. This scream made Boromir stop at once, who spun round from his "merriment" and suddenly noticed the bloodied body of Faramir that lay on the floor, and the glinting sword that seemed to fly through the darkness. His eyes boggled in fear and quickly, he stepped away from Elrond, dropping his scissors in the process. Aragorn locked his eyes on Boromir but wanted to actually look him in the eye before he dispatched him, so, he slipped off his ring into his back pocket and suddenly reappeared in basement, sword in hand. Elrond had fallen onto the floor and was now removing his gag and feeling his hairless scalp, when Aragorn approached the terrified Boromir. Boromir crossed over to the nearby chest and was about to lift up Elrond's scavenged pistol when Aragorn crossed over and pointed Glamdring, directly at Boromir's chest. Boromir froze solid, glaring at the intimidating Aragorn. Aragorn had now adopted a crazy glint in his eye as he kept the sword over Boromir and began to mock him:

"You want that gun Boromir? Come on, pick it up!"

Adrenaline and blind fury continued to pulse through Aragorn has he brutally held Boromir to account. He wanted Boromir to go for the gun so he could have the excuse he needed to strike this scumbag down! Boromir continued to stair at Aragorn, wondering whether he should plead for his life or actually go for the gun. They continued to hold this gaze until suddenly, a loud, metallic snap sounded from the side of the room and a booming voice rang out:

"Step aside Aragorn!"

Aragorn knew exactly whom this was and exactly what was going to happen next. He skipped aside from Boromir to reveal Elrond: hairless, bloodied, bruised and holding out Faramir's pump action shotgun! Without even thinking, he aimed it at Boromir's chest and fired! A loud, booming explosion of flame and spread shot erupted out of the shotgun. The shot caught Boromir directly in the stomach, who was suddenly knocked over, screaming out in pain. He began to roll about on the floor, whimpering in the same way Elrond had. Elrond paced over to the agonized Boromir. Finally he had had his revenge and achieved his retribution; these two brothers had robbed him of a great pride and thought to make fun of it; they had also had the intention of killing him. Now, he had proved them wrong and he was going to make the vaguely alive Boromir pay for it all! He continued to stare at the writhing Boromir, smoking shotgun in hand. Aragorn could understand this brutal act of retribution but now that it was over, he had a growing fear of Elrond's retribution against him. After all, he was the one with the shotgun and Aragorn was the one with the sword. Kindly, but sternly he asked:

"You alright?"

"No man! I'm pretty far from being remotely alright!"

This response did not give anything away; Aragorn didn't know if Elrond were about to turn the gun on him or weather he was just being dramatic. So, he decided to ask the question:

"What now?"

"What now? Well let me tell you what now. I'm going to call up a couple of hard-hitting Galadhrims who'll go to work on homes here with a pair of bows and a stack of arrows! They're going to turn his sorry arse into an arrow pincushion!"

He then bellowed down at the squirming Boromir.

"You hear me elf-killer boy? I'm not through with you, not by a long way! I'm going to get elvish on your arse!"

This still didn't answer Aragorn's true question.

"I meant what now about you and me?"

"Oh, that what now? Well, let me inform you: what now between you and me. There is no more you and me. Not anymore!"

Nervously, Aragorn replied:

"So, we're alright?"

Elrond then turned to Aragorn, sternly.

"Yes man, we're alright. One thing I ask of you, two things actually: do not tell anyone else about this. This is between me, and you, and the soon-to-be-living-the-rest-of-his-short-life-in-deathly-pain, Sir Elf-killer here! It isn't anybody else's business. Two: leave the Shire. Tonight and right now, and when you are gone, stay gone! You've lost your Shire and Rivendell privileges, deal?"

"Deal".

Aragorn was happy that these men were parting friends. Elrond now offered his hand and the two shook friendlily. For the first time ever, Elrond smiled at Aragorn, who promptly smiled back and then, the two enemies-turned-friends embraced each other warmly.

"Now get your arse out of here!"

Aragorn smiled and left the basement and Lord Elrond. Elrond however, was now left alone with the squirming Boromir in the dark basement. He knew what he had to do. He fished into his pocket and brought out a small jar, which contained a tiny, but living butterfly. He opened the jar, removed it, brought it up to his lips and whispered in Sindarin:

"Glenn-, fetch 'i mith'. Tul- hon i ha's Elrond a i mín gar- something –o a situation!"

Which in English means: "Go, fetch 'The Grey'. Bring him here, tell him that it's Elrond and that we have something of a situation!"

Meanwhile, on the ground floor, Aragorn could finally leave as a free man. He found his coat hung on the door. He put it on and slipped the ring into his topcoat pocket. His legs were shaking ever so slightly; he couldn't believe that he'd come through this situation so unscathed. He opened the door and went outside, thinking he'd need to find transport for Hobbiton when suddenly he spotted the answer: outside, tethered to the side of the blacksmith's was a tall, white stallion. It had powerful legs and a long, slender neck. Aragorn deduced this was Boromir's ride as he saw his name on the side of the horse's saddle. So, he went round, untethered the horse and climbed up onto the saddle. The horse was truly beautiful and Aragorn felt it to be a fitting ride for his monumental triumph. He took hold of the reins and kicked the horse forward into a steady cantor. It had been a while since he'd ridden a horse and now, he rode off for Hobbiton and the one that he loved more than life itself, his Arwen!

It was approaching midday or lunch when Aragorn finally pulled up in front of Arwen's cottage atop his magnificent steed. He brought the horse to a steady stop, yelling up at Arwen's bedroom:

"Arwen, hey Arwen!"

The front door to the cottage opened and suddenly, out came Arwen. She had fear but also relief in her big, beautiful eyes.

"Aragorn I was so worried!"

Aragorn had no time for niceties; he had to hit the road now if they were going to get out of the Shire and past Rivendell by nightfall.

"Goldberry, grab your purse and let's go!"

"What about all our things?"

"Don't need them, I've written to a guy in Erebor who'll give me a job there, but we've got to leave now!"

"Is everything well, are we still in danger?"

"We're fine. In fact we're over the moon! But we have to go now!"

Arwen did as Aragorn asked; she picked up her purse and a small satchel, closed the front door, placed the key on the doorstep and came down to where Aragorn rode. Sweetly but a little naively, Arwen asked:

"Where did you get this pony?"

"It's a stallion baby, climb on".

"What happened to my carriage?"

"Sorry Goldberry, I crashed the carriage".

"You're hurt?"

Aragorn suddenly remembered his injury.

"I think I broke my nose, trivial though. Hop on!"

Arwen stared at Aragorn like a timid rabbit; she didn't know what was going on. Aragorn knew how important it was for them to leave and suddenly, raised his voice abruptly:

"Arwen, we have to hit the road now!"

Arwen's eyes suddenly welled up with tears and she began to cry. It was heartbreaking for Aragorn to see, who now remembered his previous outburst. He was never going to lose his cool like that again. He reached down from the stallion and took her hand. He looked down at her adoringly, and smiled. He now spoke to her, softly again:

"I'm sorry baby".

Arwen was still crying but he could see that she was only worried for him and not afraid. She spoke, but with a shaky voice:

"You were gone so long, I began to think dreadful thoughts!"

"I'm sorry I worried you sweetheart. Everything's fine. How was your first breakfast?"

Arwen now sniffed hard, trying not to cry anymore.

"It was good-

"Did you get the blueberry scones?"

"No they didn't have them, I had to get raisin ones, are you sure that you're ok?"

Aragorn smiled at his beloved angel and reassuringly joked:

"Goldberry, from the moment I left you, this has been without a doubt the single strangest day of my entire life. Climb on and I'll tell you all about it".

And so, taking her by the arm, Aragorn helped her up and onto the back of the horse. She sat there contentedly, and wrapped her arms around Aragorn's waist as he spurred the stallion into life.

"Who's pony is this?"

"It's a stallion baby".

"Whose stallion is this?"

"Boromir's".

"Who's Boromir?"

"Boromir's dead, baby! Boromir's dead!"

And with that, Aragorn took hold of the reins, steered the horse round till he was facing the open road and kicked him into a steady gallop. He had gone through so much that morning and now, the open road and an eternity spent with the one he loved awaited him.

Finally, the two lovebirds road off together, heading straight for Erebor and the 'Lonely Mountain'.

Chapter 3: The Bilbo Situation

Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee had prepared themselves for a lot that morning. They had prepared for definite trouble, the orcs packing guns or swords, the chance that the chest wasn't even there, there being more orcs or goblins than expected, and not letting any orc or goblin leave that tower alive! Yes, they had prepared for all those events, but what they hadn't prepared for, was the presence of the wizard Saruman 'The White' in the neighboring chamber. The elderly, white-bearded wizard had been waiting in the chamber next door ever since Sam and Frodo's carriage had been spotted in the Isengard forests. He sat with his magical staff and waited for the hobbits to arrive at the main chamber's front door. Gorbag and the Uruk-Hai had been expecting trouble, and Saruman was waiting for the word at any moment to jump out, conjure up pure, magical flame and blast these two hobbits into oblivion!

The hobbits had arrived at the chamber just next to where Saruman was waiting. He leaned against the chamber door, put his ear against the door itself and listened. He continued to sit, trying to be absolutely silent despite his increasing panic. Judging from the muffled voices he could hear, things were going well. One of the hobbits did shout but that subsided soon enough. Saruman knew they were looking for Elrond's chest and he hoped that as soon as they had the chest, they would leave and never return. However, his hope was soon dashed with the audible firing of a gun. This made Saruman jump but he still managed to keep quiet and remain hidden. Blind terror came over Saruman's mind as he began to realize that these hobbits had come to take back the chest and kill everyone in the tower. He took hold of his staff and prepared himself. He had to pick the right moment; these hobbits were professionals! He began to hear shouting and screaming coming from the chamber. He recognized Gorbag's voice and then flinched as another gunshot rang out inside the chamber. He could hear Gorbag screaming and knew one of these hobbits had blown a hole in him! He moved (with his staff) a little closer towards a small crack in door, straining his ears to listen. He could hear one of the hobbits shouting out some sort of sinister monologue:

"Do you read the Middle-Earth Scrolls Gorbag?"

"Yes!"

"Well there's this passage I've got memorized, seems appropriate for now. Middle-Earth scrolls: two hundred and fifty, one thousand, seven hundred!

The path, of the righteous hobbit is beset on all sides, by the inequities of goblins, and the tyranny of Sauron! Blessed is the hobbit, who in the name of a second breakfast and good ale, shepherds the weak hobbits, through the valleys of Mordor! For he is truly the Shire's keeper, and the finder, of lost rings! And I will strike down upon Sauron with great vengeance and a blue sword, those who would attempt to poison and destroy Middle-Earth! And you will know, my name is Baggins! When I lay Bilbo's vengeance upon you!"

The recital concluded and the hobbits suddenly opened fire at a screaming Gorbag. Saruman winced in terror as the gunshots exploded overhead! He knew almost certainly that Gorbag was dead next-door! Then, silence suddenly came over the chamber. Saruman composed himself; he knew that he only had a very short space of time to react before the element of surprise would be lost. He gripped his magical staff and prepared himself for revenge on the hobbits!

Meanwhile, in the main chamber, Frodo and Sam were dealing in the aftermath of the execution of Gorbag. They stood in front of the dead Gorbag as the gun smoke cleared. They looked at each other; neither really felt any pity for the sizzling mess that had been Gorbag; after all, he was a goblin! Grima Wormtongue on the other hand, was not taking things in such a cruel stride, and sat in the far corner of the chamber, mumbling to himself uncontrollably. These events had clearly disturbed him beyond belief; no matter how much money Elrond was paying him. Frodo noticed this and this slippery character losing his cool began to grate on Frodo's nerves. He was not going to let this creature make him panic too! So, he turned to Sam.

"Friend of yours?"

Sam looked up from the former Gorbag and sighed:

"Yes, Grima Wormtongue-Frodo Baggins, Frodo-Grima!"

"You'd better tell him to stop that; he's getting on my nerves!"

Sam had seen Frodo when he got angry and so, for Grima's sake he shouted:

"Grima! Grima! Grima! I'd hold my peace if I were you!"

At this interruption, Grima looked up and hearing Sam's warning, promptly became quiet.

Saruman on the other hand, could take no more of this waiting, and taking hold of his staff and whispering a fire spell, he decided that now was the moment when he would rain his vengeance upon these evil, little hobbits!

Frodo was about to fetch the chest while Sam checked Grima when suddenly, the large oak door that lead to the second chamber exploded open and out jumped Saruman, screaming at the top of his lungs:

"Die, you Shire rats!"

He aimed directly at the hobbits and thrusting the staff forward, fired at them! There was a sudden explosion of crimson flame and smoke as Saruman fired his staff! The old wizard had closed his eyes when he fired and now, hoped to see two, dead hobbits lying before him. He had achieved vengeance for Gorbag and the Uruk-Hai when suddenly, he opened his eyes as the smoke cleared. What he saw almost took his breath away but puzzled him more than anything else. There, in the center of the room, stood the two hobbits, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee! Saruman looked at his smoking staff, not able to conceive how this direct blast of flame had not roasted both hobbits, dead! Frodo and Sam also didn't know how to react. They looked around the smoking chamber; they then looked over themselves to see where the wizard's flame might have hit them. They looked at each other a little while; neither quite sure of what had just occurred. They had both seen this wizard come out of the opposite chamber and fire at them at almost point blank range with his magic staff; so, they both wondered why they weren't dead. However, they both knew (as they looked at each other) that the wizard was still standing. They turned from each other till they were looking at Saruman who stared in dumbfounded silence. The hobbits then raised their arms and aimed their pistols directly at the wizard. Once again, their guns boomed out, firing bullets that caught Saruman (accurately) in the chest and knocking the wizard formerly known as 'The White' down, dead! The hobbits then lowered their guns and stood for a little while, staring at the fallen wizard. Frodo suddenly regained more of his rationality and stormed over to the silent Grima; he was furious that this little rat hadn't told them about the powerful wizard that lay, just a room away! Sam however, continued to stare at the dead wizard. He was both puzzled and disturbed by this fantastical occurrence. Frodo however, was a slightly more rational hobbit and sat down to talk with Grima:

"Why on earth, didn't you tell us that wizard was in the other chamber? Escape your recollection? Forget he was in there was a fire-breathing, magic staff?"

Grima didn't know what to say; he continued to mumble silently. Sam had now regained the power of speech and softly spoke to Frodo:

"We should be dead right now! Did you see that staff he fired at is? It was bigger than he was!"

Frodo looked up from Grima; he could tell by the tone of his voice that Sam was disturbed so he tried to comfort his friend.

"Yeah, Lady Luck was on our side Sam!"

"This tripe wasn't luck, this tripe was something else!"

Frodo now stood up, facing Sam.

"Yes, possibly".

There was no "possibly for Sam, who turned to Frodo and almost with excitement said:

"That was… Elvish intervention. Do you know what elvish intervention is?"

"Yes, I think so. That means elvish magic, stopped the fire from hitting us".

"Yes! That's what it means! Elvish, Middle-Earth magic, came down on this tower and stopped the fire!"

Frodo knew they had little time to take Elrond's chest and leave Isengard before the local Rohirrim showed up. He had no time for Sam's ponderings.

"I think we should be leaving now Sam!"

Sam suddenly realized that his friend wasn't concerned at all with the incredible event that had just happened.

"Don't do that! Don't do that Frodo! Don't toss this stuff aside! What just happened was magic!"

"Relax Sam, this stuff happens".

"Wrong, wrong, this tripe doesn't just happen everyday!"

"Do you want to continue this discussion about elvish magic in the carriage, or at the Rohan prison with all the Rohirrim?"

This was too much for Sam, who now bellowed at Frodo:

"We should be dead now, my friend! What we just witnessed was magic, and I want you to acknowledge it!"

"Alright Sam, it was magic! Can we leave now?"

Finally, the carriage containing Frodo, Samwise, Grima and Elrond's chest, thundered along the road that left Isengard for Rivendell and finally, the Shire. Sam sat and drove while Frodo sat next to him, with Grima in the back of the carriage under the tarpaulin cover. Frodo now began to continue their previous discussion again:

"I talked to a Galadhrim once, who told me about this time when he got into a gunfight with an orc in a hallway. He fires at this orc and the orc fires at him! They both fire and don't hit anything! And these two were in a hallway! It's peculiar, but it happens".

Sam would take no more of Frodo's silly pleasantries and harshly responded:

"If you want to play blind man, then go walk with an eagle. But me, my eyes are wide open now!"

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"That's it for me. For here on in, you can consider my arse retired from the profession. I'm telling Lord Elrond today that I'm through!"

"Yeah, yeah. While you're at it, be sure to tell Elrond why".

"Don't worry yourself, I will!"

"I'll bet five gold ingots, he laughs his arse off!"

"I couldn't care less if he does Frodo!"

Frodo had just begun to clean his pistol when he leaned over his seat to Grima, casually pointing the barrel over the seat. The slimy human creature now sat up; more ready for conversation.

"Grima, what do you make of all this?"

"I don't even have an opinion".

"Come on Grima! Do you really think elvish magic came down on that tower and stopped the fire from hitting us? -

However, Grima Wormtongue never got the chance to answer Frodo's question because it was at this particular moment that Frodo's handgun, which had been casually pointed at Grima's head, accidentally fired off a shot as the carriage went over a bump. There was a loud crack of gunfire and suddenly an explosion of red blood in the back of the carriage; Grima's head had been blown off! The explosion of what had been Grima's head covered both the carriage and Frodo and Sam in dark blood. Sam swerved with the carriage, panic rising as he wondered what had happened and what he felt on the back of his head. Frodo sat back down, his face covered in the truly lifeless Grima's blood. Sam saw this and realized with horror what had happened.

"What on earth's happening?!"

"I just shot Grima Wormtongue in the face!"

Sam now yelled at Frodo furiously:

"Why on earth did you do that?!"

"I didn't mean to do it. It was an accident; my gun went off!"

"I've seen a lot of foolishness in my time-

"Relax Sam, it was an accident alright? You went over a bump in the road and my gun went off!"

Sam now turned over his shoulder and looked at the back of the carriage. It was covered in blood and what had been parts of Grima Wormtongue's head. Sam was both horrified and appalled by this so-called "accident"! However, now he was just angry with Frodo for making such a foolish mistake!

"Look at this mess! We're driving around Middle-Earth in broad daylight! Look, we have to get this carriage off the road; Rohirrim tend to notice tripe like you driving a carriage covered in blood!"

"Can't we take the carriage to Elrond in Rivendell?"

"No! You drive into Rivendell with a carriage looking like this and all the Galadhrim's not paid by Elrond will arrest us as soon as we turn up! No, we need to lay low and avoid these big towns! I know somebody, a hobbit who lives in Hobbiton! I'll take us there; I'm sure he'll help us!"

The carriage continued to rattle along the road towards the Shire. Traces of Grima's blood could still be seen on the outside of the tarpaulin but Frodo and Sam had no choice but to continue. It was a long journey to Hobbiton but it was the only place where the pair could lay low and send for help. The carriage thundered along at top speed, Frodo and Sam doing their best to remain calm and clean up their faces, but Hobbiton was still a long way off!

Finally, Sam and Frodo arrived in Hobbiton. The wide, sweeping hills and adorable hobbit cottages, greeted them on every side. However, they were determined to remain as unseen as possible. They hid the carriage and pony in a patch of forest on the northern side of the hills. Then, slowly and cautiously, both hobbits made their way up to one hobbit cottage in particular. They crouched down as they paced towards the hobbit hole, trying to remain as unseen as possible; they weren't exactly hard to miss! They made their way to the round, blue, front door of the hobbit hole and proceeded to knock.

A little while later, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee stood, still covered in Grima's blood, in the bathroom of one Pippin Took. Pippin was one of Sam's closest friends and Sam knew that he could depend on him in a crisis like this. Both hobbits proceeded to clean themselves with little buckets of water and rags as they stood in the bathroom. Sam proceeded to wash his face, looking at Frodo throughout. He was still absolutely furious with Frodo for putting him in such an insane situation. Sam was a professional and through his carless actions, Frodo had jeopardized Sam's day and his new outlook on life. He turned to Frodo, who continued to mop his face and his tunic.

"Now listen Frodo, we have to be very delicate with Pippin's situation. He's one fast remark away from throwing our arses out the door!"

"If he throws us out, what do we do?"

"Well, we're not leaving until I've sent a message to one of Elrond's helpers. But I never want things to get that far; Pippin's my friend and you don't bust in your friend's hobbit hole and start telling him what's what!"

"Just tell him not to get snippy; he freaked out when he saw Grima!"

"Put yourself in his position. It's still morning. He just woke up; he wasn't prepared for this kind of event. Don't forget who's doing who a favor!"

Frodo nodded his head and now proceeded to dry his hands on a towel.

"If the price of that favor is that I have to take his tripe, then he can put his favor where the sun never shines!"

Frodo had dried his hands but when Sam looked at the towel, it was stained red. Sam was appalled by such carelessness and tensely, but still keeping his voice low, he barked at Frodo:

"What on earth did you just do to his towel?!"

"I was drying my hands".

"You're supposed to wash them first!"

"You saw me wash them in the bucket!"

"I watched you get them wet!"

"I washed them Sam! Grima's blood is hard to get off. Maybe if your man Pippin had some elvish soap, I could have done a better job!"

"I used the same towel and bucket you did when I dried my hands, my towel didn't end up looking like an orc's nappy! Look, who cares? But it's events like this that bring the current situation to a boil! If Pippin were to come in here and see that towel like that, I'm telling you Frodo; you'd better be cool. Because if I have to get in to it with Pippin on account of you… Look, I'm not threatening you, I respect you but just don't put me in that position!"

"Sam, you ask me nice like that, no problem! He's your friend, you handle him!"

A few minutes later, Frodo and Sam stood in the kitchen area of the hobbit hole, drinking tea with none other than Pippin Took himself. He was a short, plump hobbit with short, brown, curly hair, not unlike Frodo's. He stood in his powder gown, clutching a cup of tea and staring angrily at Frodo and Sam. Both hobbits were still covered with amounts of Grima's remains but seemed more upbeat as they drank their tea together. Sam knew exactly how close they were to Pippin bouncing them out of his cottage, so he decided to try and make amends.

"Wow Pippin, this is some serious gourmet tea! Frodo and me would have been satisfied with a few leaves in a hot water bole! You spring this gourmet tea on us. What flavor of tea is this?"

"Stop it Sam!"

"What?"

"I'm not potatoes or a slice of bread, so you can stop buttering me up. I don't need you to tell me how good my tea is. I'm the one who buys the bags; I know how good it is. When my neighbor Bilbo goes shopping for me, he buys tripe. I buy the expensive, gourmet stuff because I want to taste good tea. But what's on my mind at this moment isn't the tea in my kitchen, it's the dead human in the carriage in the woods outside my house!"

"Pippin-

"I'm talking Sam. Now let me ask you a question Sam. When you drove in here, did you notice a sign saying 'Dead Man Storage'?"

Sam knew where Pippin was going with this line of enquiry and was about to excuse himself but before he could speak, Pippin continued again:

"Answer the question. Did you see a sign around my hobbit hole that said 'Dead Man Storage'?"

"No Pippin, I didn't".

"You know why you didn't see that sign Sam?"

"Why?"

"Because storing dead humans, orcs, elves, dwarves or goblins, isn't my business!"

Sam tried to intervene again but Pippin wasn't finished by a long way yet.

"I'm not through! Now, my neighbor Bilbo is coming round for a spot of tea and a second breakfast and don't you understand that if Bilbo comes here and finds that dead human outside, I'll be thrown in jail, and I don't want to get thrown in jail! Now, I really want to help you Sam, I really do. But I'm not going to end up in jail either!"

"Pippin-

"Don't 'Pippin' me, I can't be 'Pippined'! Now Bilbo's a late riser and he'll be coming hear for tea in less than an hour and a half. Do what you have to, then get out of my hobbit hole!"

"That's all we want. We don't want to mess up your life! But I have to know, do you have any live butterflies around here that you keep in jars? I have to know so I can use one to send for help!"

"Yes, there's a live one I caught this morning that's in a jar over on the table of the sitting room, use that!"

"You're a friend Pippin! You're a good friend!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm a real good friend!"

Pippin then (as if for the first time) turned to look at Frodo.

"Who on earth are you?"

"I'm Frodo. And Pippin, thanks a lot!"

"Think nothing of it!"

All three hobbits then chuckled to each other, as Frodo and Sam went for the living room of the hobbit hole.

Sam opened the jar and the butterfly flew up onto the palm of his hand. It had large, blue wings with beautiful flecks or orange in its wings. Sam brought the butterfly up to the side of his cheek and whispered to it tenderly in Sindarin:

"Tul- 'i mith' hi, treneri- hon ha's an Elrond a i ha's urgent!"

Which means: "Bring 'The Grey' here, tell him that it's for Elrond and that it's urgent!" Sam then turned to one of Pippin's windows, opened it, and tossed the butterfly into the air. The butterfly then fluttered its wings and was gone in an instant, heading for Elrond's henchman who was know as 'The Grey'.

Swiftly but gracefully, the butterfly flew its way straight to Brie's 'Prancing Pony' where it knew that 'The Grey' was staying. It knew the scent of the man who was 'The Grey' and flapped its way over the people of Brie's heads and straight to 'The Pony'. The scent of 'The Grey' drew the butterfly up to a window on the top floor, where it flew through an open window. Inside, in an armchair by his bed, sat the mystical man known as 'The Grey'. His name was actually Gandalf 'The Grey' and he sat in the chair, smoking a long, wooden pipe, clad in grey robes with a tall, pointed, grey hat. He was clearly a wizard of sorts and had a long grey beard that just about reached his waistline. He sat, thinking about anything and everything that interested him. However, his thoughts were suddenly disturbed by the arrival of the butterfly that flew through the window and landed on Gandalf's shoulder. Gandalf knew exactly what this meant. He nodded to the butterfly, took up his staff, shouldered his cloak, and threw out the fiery discharge of his pipe. He went down to the stables of 'The Pony', climbed on to a white stallion (his personal mode of transport), took hold of the magnificent beast's reins and set off from Brie, using the butterfly's flight pattern as a guide for his journey. The gorgeous stallion thundered along the local roads as it followed the butterfly towards Hobbiton, Frodo, Sam and Pippin.

Finally, about half an hour later, Gandalf the Grey road into Hobbiton on top of his glorious, white stallion. He pulled it up to Pippin's hobbit hole, quickly descended and tethered the horse to a nearby post. He made himself presentable, walked up to the round, blue, front door and knocked hard. There was metallic click as the door slowly opened; there was Pippin, looking up nervously at the tall, grey-bearded stranger. Gandalf bended low till he was looking Pippin in the face and murmured:

"This is your house?"

"Yes".

"And your name is?"

"Pippin Took, are you Mr. Grey?"

The old wizard smiled to himself. It never ceased to amuse him when people used his nickname.

"Yes. Who called for my services?"

"A couple of hobbits: my friend and his friend".

Gandalf thought it time for a formal introduction, so he extended his hand, shook Pippin's warmly and stated:

"My name's Gandalf, I solve problems".

Pippin smiled; the stranger had won over his confidence.

"Good, because we have one!"

"I heard it was "urgent". May I come in?"

"Please do".

At this, the wizard removed his tall, pointed hat to reveal long, grey strands of hair that clung to the outskirts of his head. He then bent down even further and proceeded to trot inside Pippin's hobbit hole. Pippin quickly closed the door behind him. He placed his hat on a stand and threw his cloak over a clothes peg, trying to avoid the low ceiling that longed to strike his head. He then turned to Pippin and smiled.

"I want to convey Lord Elrond's gratitude with the help and shelter you're providing on this matter. Let me assure you Pippin that Lord Elrond's gratitude is worth having".

Pippin then took Gandalf through to the living room where Frodo and Sam were waiting. Both hobbits rose from their armchairs when they observed their much-anticipated guest. Gandalf strolled over to the pair casually.

"You two must be in Elrond's employ so, you must be Sam and that would make you Frodo".

Gandalf guessed correctly as he pointed out each hobbit, after all, Elrond only employed these, two hobbits.

"Let's get down to brass tacks gentlehobbits. If I was informed correctly, there is some urgency in dealing with this matter, is that correct Pippin?"

"Absolutely. I'm expecting a friend named Bilbo to be coming round for breakfast in an hour".

"Ok, so where's the fire Pippin?"

"These two left a carriage out in the nearby woods. They blew off a guy's head in it, so that means that the carriage interior and exterior is bloody and that there's a dead body in the back!"

Gandalf looked at the two, still-dirty hobbits and sighed:

"Yes, I thought it might be a little messy. Anyway, that gives us sixty minutes to get out of Hobbiton. Now, you have a corpse, in a carriage, minus a head, in the woods. Take me to it!"

With that, all four made their way out to the isolated spot in the woods where Frodo and Sam had stashed the wrecked carriage. Gandalf cleared the way and immediately went up to inspect the carriage itself. He looked over each wrecked, element with silent yet absolute precision. He made mental notes of absolutely everything: the stained tarpaulin, the bloodied interior, the size and shape of the carriage itself, and the height of the deceased Grima. Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam looked to each other inpuzzled silence; wondering what 'The Grey' would do next. Gandalf then turned back to the three hobbits.

"Pippin?"

"Yes".

"Do me a favor will you? I thought I smelled some tea back at your cottage. Would you make me a cup?"

"Sure, how do you take it?"

"Black, but with plenty of sugar".

Pippin then smiled, turned, and headed back towards his hobbit hole. Gandalf then turned back to the carriage but continued speaking with the remaining two hobbits:

"About the carriage, is there anything I need to know? Are the wheels at all rusty, is it well-built, what's the pony like?"

Sam took charge immediately, trying to earn Gandalf's confidence.

"Aside from how it looks, the carriage is fine. The pony's fine too but I tied him up in a nearby clearing".

"Positive? Don't get me out on the road and I find out that the pony's lame!"

"Hey man, as far as I know, the pony's tip-top!"

"Good enough, let's get back to the hobbit hole".

A few minutes later, Pippin handed Gandalf a piping hot, cup of tea. Gandalf accepted it gratefully:

"Thank you Pippin".

The two, disgruntled and gorily dirty hobbits, stared at Gandalf dejectedly as he sipped his black tea. He then coughed, cleared his throat and began:

"Alright first thing, you two, take the body and stick it in the underside compartment of the carriage. Now Pippin, this looks to be a pretty domesticated hobbit hole. That would lead me to believe that you have a nearby well and probably a supply of buckets and rags. Am I correct?"

"Yes. The well's just on the side of the house".

"Good. What I need you to do is fill all the buckets you have with water. Then, what I need you two to do is take those water buckets and rags, and clean the interior of that carriage, and I'm talking quickly, quickly, quickly. You need to go in the back and scoop up all those little pieces of Grima's head, all right? Get it out of there. Wipe down the upholstery, now when it comes to upholstery, it doesn't have to be spic and span, you don't have to eat off it but just give it a good once over. What you need to take care of are the really messy parts: the little pools of Grima's blood that have collected, soak them right up! However, the tarpaulin is a different story, you're going to have to take that off, burn it and use a new one. Pippin, am I right in assuming you have a spare carriage tarpaulin?"

"Yes, you can have it".

"Great, now Pippin, we then need to raid your linen closets; I need blankets, bed sheets, rugs, towels. The thicker, the better. Nothing white though; we need to camouflage the interior of the carriage. We're going to line the inside of the carriage with the blankets so that if a Rohirrim stops us, the carriage will seem perfectly homely and normal, all right? Pippin, lead the way! Boys, get to work!"

Frodo had gotten rather tired of this uppity stranger's constant orders, so as he, Sam, Pippin and Gandalf began to leave the living room; Frodo turned to Sam and said:

"A "please" would be nice".

Gandalf suddenly stopped everyone in their tracks and turned, angrily to the little hobbit.

"Come again?"

"I said a "please" would be nice".

"Set it straight, Halfling! I'm not here to say "please", I'm here to tell you what to do. And if self-preservation is an instinct you posses, you'd better do it and do it quick. I'm here to help. If my help's not appreciated, lots of luck gentlehobbits!"

Sam began panicking; wondering if these two might come to blows. So, he decided to intervene and calm things down.

"Is isn't that way Mr. Gandalf. Your help is definitely appreciated!"

"I don't mean any disrespect. I just don't like people howling orders at me!"

"If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor. I strategize fast, I speak fast and I need you guys to act fast if you want to get out of this. So, pretty please with sugar on top, clean the ruddy carriage!"

Almost immediately, the four got to work. Pippin filled all the water buckets and dished out all the rags he had to Sam and Frodo who set off for the carriage. Pippin was then left alone in his bedroom with Gandalf, digging up every fabric cover he had that could be used to line the carriage's interior. Pippin had found his spare carriage tarpaulin; he lifted it out of its box, but then stopped as he noticed Gandalf taking out his Uncle's, personal, linen blanket that had been given to him as a gift. He stopped folding the tarpaulin and approached Gandalf.

"Mr. Gandalf, you have to understand something. I want to help you guys out, but that's my best linen blanket. It was a gift from my Uncle who's no longer with us and-

"Let me ask you a question, if you don't mind?"

"Of course".

"Was your Uncle very wealthy?"

"No".

"Well, your Uncle Elrond is. And I'm positive that if your Uncle was wealthy, he would have furnished you with two, whole new wings for your hobbit hole. Both fully-painted, decorated, furnished and stashed with nick nacks and paddy wacks! Your Uncle Elrond is more than happy to do all of that!"

The pair smiled; they had come to an understanding.

Meanwhile, in the forest, Frodo and Sam were still hard at work cleaning the interior of the carriage. Sam was busy scooping up all the pieces of Grima's fragmented head while Frodo washed all the remains, off the carriage's oaken floorboards with a water bucket. As Sam continued with his vile labor, he began to get angry again, thinking about Frodo's incredible carelessness.

"I will never forgive your hairy arse for this tripe! This is some screwed-up, repugnant tripe!"

"Did you ever hear the philosophy that once a hobbit admits he's wrong, he's immediately forgiven for all wrong-doings?"

"Hobbit, get off that tall pony! The hobbit who said that never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of man-skull with his fingers on account of your moronic arse!"

Sam was a good friend of Frodo's but Frodo wouldn't tolerate anyone, speaking to him in such an aggressive way.

"I have a threshold Sam. I have a threshold for the tripe I'll take and you're crossing it right now!"

"Oh I see, so you're getting ready to explode?! I'm a firedrake egg laying, Shire rat you Shire rat and every time my fingers touch brain, I'm "Bullroarer Took". I'm "Helm's Deep"! In fact, what on earth am I doing in the back? You're the Shire rat that should be on brain detail! We're trading! I'm washing the floor and you're picking up man-skull!"

Finally, Sam and Frodo stood outside, the cleaned and tidied carriage. The floor and seats had been cleaned to perfection, the tarpaulin carriage cover had been replaced, Grima had been stashed, and the interior had been comfortably lined with sheets, blankets and linen. Sam and Frodo had done a terrific job and now they stood outside the carriage, still dirty, surveying their handiwork. Gandalf now gave the carriage a once over. He looked at every element; making sure that everything was clean and neat. In his own way, he was proud of them. He turned round to the three hobbits that stood outside the carriage.

"Fine job, gentlehobbits. We may get out of this yet".

Pippin chirped up:

"I can't believe that's the same carriage!"

"Well, let's not start throwing a banquet just yet. Phase one is complete, clean the carriage, which moves us right along to phase two, clean you two hobbits".

Frodo and Sam looked to each other dejectedly; they knew what that meant.

In the area of forest near where the carriage was concealed, there was a large clearing; in the center of the clearing was a large but shallow pool. This was where Frodo and Sam now stood, waiting for Gandalf's instructions. They were cleaner then they had been but their tunics and faces were still rather stained from Grima's remains. Gandalf now entered the clearing along with Pippin and proceeded to order the pair to:

"Strip".

Frodo had been expecting this but was what you would call 'body shy'. He turned to Gandalf and sheepishly asked:

"All the way?"

"To your bare, hobbit arses!"

Reluctantly and slowly, the two hobbits began removing their clothing. It was a cold morning and as the pair became more and more naked, they were forced to rub their shoulders to keep warm. Gandalf reminded the dejected pair:

"Quickly gentlehobbits, we have about fifteen minutes before Bilbo comes up to Pippin's front door!"

Sam grumbled back:

"This morning air is some chilly tripe, and the water looks freezing!"

Frodo now chimed in:

"Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?"

Gandalf smiled to himself and replied:

"You know what you two look like?"

Frodo replied:

"What?"

"Like a couple of hobbits who just blew off somebody's head! Yes, stripping off those bloodied rags is absolutely necessary! Toss the clothes in Pippin's laundry bag!"

The two hobbits threw their dirty clothes into a large, knitted bag that lay by Pippin's feet. Sam then turned to Pippin and warned:

"Now Pippin, don't do something unintelligent like putting that out front of your hobbit hole for the washer hobbit to take away!"

Gandalf reassured:

"Don't worry, we're taking it with us".

He then paused, looked around the clearing and then ordered:

"Time gentlehobbits! Get in!"

Slowly and dejectedly, the two, naked hobbits, lowered themselves into the pool. They both began to swim around and paddle in the pool. Both hobbits shivered violently, trying to keep themselves warm by doing little exercises in the freezing water. Gandalf chuckled to the three hobbits:

"Better you than me, gentlehobbits!"

The two hobbits grumbled as they began to scrub themselves violently, trying to get as clean as possible, as fast as possible. Pippin had a large laundry bag next to the one that contained the dirty tunics. Gandalf now gestured to it and asked:

"Give them a couple of towels Pippin!"

Joyfully, the freezing pair of hobbits turned around and proceeded to exit the pool. Both hobbits took their towels enthusiastically, drying themselves with vigor. Gandalf continued:

"You're dry enough. Pippin, give them their clothes".

Gandalf had already arranged a change of clothing with Pippin, who lifted up his laundry bag and set it down in front of the two, shivering but dryer hobbits. Pippin then smiled at the two.

"All right hobbits, in the one-size-fits-all category, we have leather jock straps and two, extra-large vests".

These were certainly basic clothing options, but they were all the hobbits were going to get. So, eager to get warm, the hobbits took their clothing off Pippin and quickly put them on. Gandalf looked down at the now-clothed hobbits.

"Perfect. Perfect. We couldn't have planned this better. You hobbits look like, what do they look like Pippin?"

Pippin giggled and joked:

"Woses. They look like a couple of Woses!"

Gandalf and Pippin then turned to each other and laughed. Sam saw nothing to laugh about whatsoever and grumpily replied:

"Ha ha ha! They're your clothes, ring-stealer!"

"I suppose you just have to know how to wear them".

"Yeah well, our arses aren't the expert on wearing Woses clothing that yours is!"

Gandalf then intervened:

"Come on gentlehobbits, we're laughing and kidding our way into a Rohan prison cell! Don't make me beg!"

Frodo and Sam quickly connected the pony up to the carriage and ascended to the driving seats. Sam took hold of the reins and prepared to drive when Gandalf cleared his throat again and preceded to give the pair another set of orders:

"Gentlehobbits, let's get our rules of the road straight. We're going to a place called Moria which homes a guy I know named Cave Troll Joe! Cave Troll Joe owes me several favors so here's what we do: we drive the carriage to Moria, disconnect the pony and dump the carriage into any abandoned mineshaft we come across. Joe comes across it when he's passing in the mines and eats it whole: boards, body, the whole caboose! I'll be riding my stallion along side you guys the whole time so if we do come across a Rohirrim, nobody does a thing until I do. What did I just say?"

Sam took charge, replying:

"Don't do tripe unless-

"Unless what?"

"Unless you make a move first".

"Spoken like a true prodigy! Now how about you Mr. Baggins, can you keep your blue sword from glowing?"

"I'm fine Gandalf. My gun just went off, I don't know how".

"Fair enough! Now I ride really fast, so keep up all right?"

Sam asked:

"All right but why do you ride fast?"

"Because it's a lot of fun!"

Frodo and Sam chuckled to each other heartily; it had been an insane morning but now, it finally seemed like there was actual light at the end of the tunnel. Gandalf was chuffed by this response but was still most definitely committed to the job at hand. He turned to the two hobbits:

"All right, let's ride! Thanks again Pippin, you'll be hearing from Elrond soon!"

"That's fine with me".

Sam then turned to Pippin.

"Thanks man, I owe you a lot; you've saved my arse!"

"Trivial my dear Sam, trivial!"

The friends smiled to each other. Then, Sam drove the carriage out of the forest. Gandalf quickly untied and ascended his glorious stallion, Sam martialled the pony and carriage and finally, the three set off for the mines of Moria at top speed; they had a long journey ahead of them!

Finally, after a long and tiring journey, the three arrived at the dark and desolate mines of Moria. The giant, formidable mountain range greeted the travelers in all its rocky, dark, snow-topped magnificence. As they pulled up to the coastal path on the lower side of the mountains, they felt a sudden sense of terror and foreboding as the impervious and gigantic faces of rock, drew in on them. The three travelers steered their rides round to a large opening in the rocky face. The shape of a door could be seen cut into the rock and underneath the shape were engraved words, in Sindarin. Sam and Frodo pulled the carriage up to the door and tethered the pony to a tree stump. Gandalf then descended from his ride and tethered the stallion to the side of the carriage. Frodo and Sam stood around the door, looking up at the incredible, rocky fortress and then, Sam turned to Frodo; their last exchange hadn't been the most friendly.

"We all right?"

Frodo smiled back at his chum.

"Like it never happened".

"I apologize for being in your face like I was".

"You had every right; I messed up!"

The two friends then shook each other's hands affectionately. They'd been through an awful lot that morning! Gandalf the Grey now strode up to the rocky door. He gazed at the carvings; he'd obviously been here many times before. He then turned to the hobbits.

"Listen boys, I've got to say a special password to get this door open, then I'm going to drive the carriage inside, set the pony free and push the carriage into an abandoned mineshaft. Then, Joe will come across it and do his thing, but I need you guys to be gone before I say the password, all right?"

The hobbits looked to each other and smiled, they then turned to Gandalf as Sam informed:

"Sure, that will be fine Mr. Gandalf!"

"Now don't worry about getting wherever you guys need to get to. When we came down here, we rode past a large cave, remember?"

The hobbits echoed:

"Yes".

"Well, you guys walk round to it and go on inside. Inside you'll find a little dwelling with a stable. There should be two, saddled ponies waiting for you inside the cave. Take them; they're from Elrond to me to you! All right?"

Sam perked up.

"Sure that will be just fine Mr. Gandalf!"

The kind wizard smiled at the pair. It had just been a normal morning for him but there was something he liked about these hobbits. He also felt a warm sense of pride with the way in which he had got these hobbits through their troubles.

"I'll see you two around, and stay out of trouble, you crazy hobbits!"

Sam went up to Gandalf and shook his hand. Frodo did the same, and then, the pair turned around and began walking back up the road they had first come down. Gandalf waved to the hobbits; they turned and waved back before they were lost in the rocky pastures. Gandalf turned back to the door, and set about his work.

The two hobbits found the cave exactly where Gandalf had told them they would. They found the dwelling place and the individual ponies too. Sam ascended his pony, and Frodo his too. Sam then turned to Frodo.

"Hey, I've just realized, it's about time for a second breakfast isn't it?"

"Sure, where do you think?"

"Prancing Pony?"

"Suits me fine!"

The two friends then kicked the ponies into action, left the dark cave, and set off on the open road for Brie and the Prancing Pony.

EPILOGUE: THE PRANCING PONY

It was a normal, busy morning at the gorgeous town of Brie's Prancing Pony Inn. All the booths and picnic tables inside the Inn were taken up with customers talking, drinking, laughing and eating hearty breakfasts. This was where Frodo and Sam had come for their second breakfast. They now sat at one of the owner Butterbur's numerous booths enjoying their breakfast: Sam was merrily munching on a blueberry scone and enjoying a hot pot of tea, while Frodo tackled a large breakfast that consisted of mutton chops, fried potatoes, tomatoes, mushrooms and a fried egg. Their jolly, little breakfast now felt like a reward for the incredible troubles they had overcome that morning. They talked and ate merrily together. They still had business to attend to: to return the chest to Elrond but for the moment, they were content to sit back, relax and enjoy a good morning's breakfast! Frodo was busy stuffing his face with food but was still up for conversation with his friend as he leaned over the table.

"Want a mutton chop?"

"No Frodo, I don't eat mutton".

"Are you dwarvish?"

"No, I'm not dwarvish, I just don't care for mutton, that's all".

"Why not?"

"Sheep are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals!"

"Yeah but mutton stew tastes good. Mutton chops taste even better!"

"Hey, warg may taste like pumpkin pie but I wouldn't know because I wouldn't eat the filthy, hobbit-eater! Sheep sleep and root in poo! That's a filthy animal! I'm not going to eat something that doesn't have enough sense to disregard it's own sewage!"

"How about a horse? Horse eats his own sewage".

"I don't eat horse either".

"Yeah but do you consider a horse to be a filthy animal?"

"I wouldn't go as far as to call a horse filthy but they're definitely dirty but, a horse has got personality, personality goes a long way!"

"Ah, so by that rational if a sheep had a better personality, it would cease to be a filthy animal, is that correct?"

"Well, we'd have to be talking about one charming, grass-chewing sheep! He'd have to be ten times more charming than that ram who lives next to the Green Dragon, you know what I'm saying?"

The two hobbits chuckled to themselves at this playful joke. Frodo then turned back to his monstrous breakfast and continued to stuff his face, but there were some serious questions he wanted to ask his chum after all that had happened to them.

"Good for you! Lighten up a little, you've been sitting here all quiet!"

Sam looked up from his scone peacefully and smiled.

"I've just been sitting here, thinking".

"About what?"

"The elvish magic we witnessed".

"The elvish magic you witnessed. I witnessed a run of the mill, freak occurrence!"

"Do you know what elvish magic is?"

"Magic performed by elves".

"What's the magic?"

"Well, elves are powerful and have always been magical and I guess it's when they just let their magic out into the world. It comes down on people and helps them along their ways. And I'm sorry Sam but I don't think that what happened this morning qualifies".

"Don't you see Frodo, that tripe doesn't just happen? You're judging things the wrong way; it's not about that! It could be that elvish magic stopped the fire from hitting us, but you don't judge tripe like this based on merit! Whether or not we experienced true elvish magic is insignificant. What is significant is I felt elvish magic in that tower".

"But why?"

"That's what I've been trying to work out. I don't know why, but I can't go back to that life".

"So you're serious, you're really going to quit?"

"The life? Most definitely!"

Frodo paused between his next mouthfuls of food and Sam returned to his scone. There was silence for a brief moment before Frodo turned back to Sam again.

"So if you're quitting the life, what will you do?"

"That's what I've been sitting here contemplating. First, I'm going to deliver this chest back to Elrond".

He pointed down to the space next to his foot where the alabaster chest lay. They'd left it at Pippin's first and went back for it after dumping the carriage and collecting their ponies. Bilbo was gone by then. It seemed almost funny to Sam that they had gone to such trouble over such a small chest. He then turned back to Frodo and continued:

"Then, I'm basically going to walk Middle-Earth".

"What do you mean, walk Middle-Earth?"

"You know like Bilbo Baggins in "There and Back Again"? Just walk from town to town, meet people, and get in adventures".

"How long do you intend to walk Middle-Earth?"

"Until I feel that I'm where I need to be".

"What if you never do?"

"If it takes forever, then I'll wait forever".

"So you decided to become a beggar?"

"I'll be Sam, Frodo. No more, no less!"

"No Sam, you're going to be like those Názgul out there who beg for change. They walk around like a pack of zombies, they sleep in abandoned coal shafts, they eat what I throw away and wags urinate on them! Do you really want to become one of them?"

"Look my friend, this is just where me and you differ!"

"What happened was peculiar, no doubt about it, but it wasn't no elvish magic I can tell you that!"

"All shapes and sizes Frodo".

"Stop talking like that!"

"If you find my answers frightening Frodo, you should cease asking scary questions!"

"When did you make this decision, while you were sitting there eating your scone?"

"Yes, I was sitting here drinking my tea, eating my scone, playing the incident in my head, when I had what boozers refer to as a 'moment of clarity'".

To say Frodo was unmoved by this, was an under statement. He picked up his satchel, rose from the table and said to Sam.

"I'm heading for the outhouse. To be continued!"

Frodo left out the back door of the Inn, heading straight for the outhouse at the back of the establishment. Comfortably, Sam returned back to his scone. Suddenly, yelling sounded from the other side of the Inn. A young hobbit with curly, short hair, leaped on top of the table he was eating at, holding a gun. He was followed by a young woman with golden hair who produced a gun as well and started screaming out at the contents of the Inn! Sam froze in-between mouthfuls of scone. First, the hobbit screamed out at the customers and staff:

"Everyone remain calm, this is a robbery!"

The ferocious woman then chimed in, yelling at the top of her lungs and waving her gun madly:

"Any of you orkish pigs move; and I'll execute every ring-stealing last one of you!"

Sam shook his head to himself; he could not believe that his luck was that bad! After the events of this morning, this little escapade didn't daunt Sam in the slightest. However, Sam was first and foremost a professional, he knew that if he didn't give this situation the respect it deserved, he could wind up dead! So, slowly and calmly, he bent his right arm down to his satchel witch lay on the floor. He opened it up and slowly removed his handgun. He gripped it tightly, trying to make as little noise as possible. He cocked it slowly and held it up to the underside of the table. He was prepared to shoot these jokers down but he didn't want to do that; he was finished with that life!

The little hobbit then jumped down off his table and marched round to the bar area where he aimed his pistol at Butterbur, who had stopped pouring out mugs of ale, and barked:

"You at the bar, get out here!"

The terrified, chubby Innkeeper slowly, with his hands raised, came out from behind the bar and was immediately greeted with the barrel of the hobbit's pistol! The angry little hobbit gestured for him to move over to the corner of the room. The terrified Butterbur nervously blurted out:

"I'm the Innkeeper here, there's not problem, no problem at all!"

The hobbit mocked Butterbur nastily:

"Are you going to give me a problem?"

The violent little hobbit then stuck his gun right up in Butterbur's chubby face and yelled:

"What? You said you're going to give me a problem?"

The portly Butterbur began to blubber:

"No, I'm not. I'm not going to give you any problems!"

The hobbit sadistically turned to his human accomplice and asked:

"I don't know, Éowyn. He looks like the hero type to me!"

The girl who was obviously Éowyn, turned to her hobbit boyfriend and cackled:

"Don't take any chances, execute him!"

Butterbur cried out:

"Please don't! I'm not a hero; I'm just an Innkeeper. Take everything you want!"

The hobbit sneered at him:

"Tell everyone to cooperate and it'll be all over".

Butterbur then announced nervously:

"Everyone just remain calm and cooperate and this will all be over soon!"

The hobbit smiled cruelly and then barked:

"Good, you get your arse down!"

Sam had been watching this entire, chaotic scene unfold in quiet determination. He gripped his handgun tightly. He didn't want to kill these two but he wasn't going to let them go on a rampage either! The wicked pair then went to work at a professional speed. The hobbit plodded round to the bar area and removed all the money from the money pots that Butterbur had taken in that morning. The girl named Éowyn then began to go round, gun in hand, snatching people's coin purses away from their belts. Everyone cowered in fear; no one moved a muscle unless the pair told him or her to do so. Once he had collected all Butterbur's takings, the hobbit came out from behind the bar area and began to also take away people's coin purses. Sam watched him like a hawk and then, he finally came round to where Sam was sitting and aimed his gun directly at Sam's chest. Coolly and calmly, Sam removed his coin purse and handed it strait to the hobbit who threw it into a large sack that he had been carrying around with him. The hobbit however, had also noticed the alabaster chest that lay next to Sam's left foot. He gestured to it and nodded. Sam took the hint and lifted it up with his spare hand onto the top of the breakfast table. The hobbit now lowered his tone respectfully and asked:

"What's in that?"

"My employer's dirty garments".

"Your boss makes you wash his garments?"

"When he wants them clean".

"Sounds like a turd of a job!"

"Funny, I've been thinking the same thing".

"Open it up!"

"Sorry, I can't do that".

This was all the hobbit needed, who cocked the gun and now pointed it directly at Sam's face.

"I didn't hear you!"

"Yes, you did".

The ferocious Éowyn now called over:

"What's going on Merry?"

"Looks like we've got an Elendil in our midst!"

Éowyn yelled out cruelly:

"Shoot him in the face!"

Sam played it cool; such was his nature and spoke to the hobbit whose name was obviously Merry.

"I hate to be the one to shatter your ego, but this isn't the first time I've had a gun pointed at me!"

"You don't open up that chest, it's going to be the last!"

It was at this moment that Butterbur perked up again, shakily warning:

"Quit causing problems, you'll get us all killed! Give him what you have and get them out of here!"

Sam had lost his patience with this cowardly Innkeeper and yelled over at him:

"Hold your peace fat man! This isn't any of your business!"

Merry however, would not be put off.

"I'm going to count to three, and if your hand isn't off that chest, I'm going to fire right in your face! Clear? One…"

Sam imagined blowing these two scumbags away right here and now, but he had made a vow (of sorts) and no one, least of all these two, were going to make him break that vow.

"Two…"

"All right, you win".

Sam suddenly lifted his hand off the chest.

"It's all yours Merry!"

Merry then bent down to the chest and flipped the hinges off the top. Then, slowly, he peeled back the lid of the chest. The same golden light that had illuminated Frodo's face now illuminated Merry's. He stared at whatever was in the chest and breathed a long, exasperated sigh. Éowyn was amused by the emotions Merry was showing from looking at a chest of all things, and giggled out:

"What is it? What is it Merry?"

Merry looked back to Sam and asked:

"Is that what I think it is?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"It's beautiful!"

Sam nodded again.

Éowyn called out again, only this time, more curiously:

"What is it Merry?"

Merry was too transfixed with the contents of the chest to reply. Slowly, he closed the top half shut and flicked the hinges back on. He then bent down to lift up the chest. This was the last straw for Sam; he had been through too much and endured too much to let this little Shire rat, walk away with the chest. As Merry bent down to pick up the chest, like a snake, Sam's right hand came out from underneath the table, still clutching his handgun and pressed the barrel against Merry's chin. This was too much for Éowyn who suddenly went into a wild panic. She ran round to where Merry and Sam were sitting, waving her gun and screaming:

"Let him go! You let him go! I'll blow your head off! I'll kill you! You're going to die!"

Sam was not going to let this foolish girl get to him. He yelled at Merry:

"Tell that fool to be cool! Say, Éowyn be cool!"

Nervously, Merry uttered:

"Remain calm Éowyn!"

"Tell her things are going to be all right!"

"I'm going to be all right Éowyn!"

"Promise her!"

"I promise Éowyn!"

Still keeping his eyes on Merry, Sam called to Éowyn:

"So, we're all right Éowyn? You're not going to do anything foolish are you?"

Éowyn had suddenly lost her furious confidence now that the hobbit she loved was being held hostage. She cried out nervously:

"Don't you hurt him!"

"Nobody's going to hurt anyone! We're going to be like three, little Tom Bombadil's. What's Bombadil like Éowyn?"

The girl was too confused to answer, but Sam needed to know that she wouldn't fire on him; he barked out at her:

"What's Bombadil like Éowyn?"

Éowyn was snapped awake by Sam's question. With tears forming in her eyes, she shakily replied:

"Relaxed?"

"That's the perfect answer Éowyn! And that's what we're going to be; we're going to be relaxed! Now Merry, I going to count to three and when I get to three I want you to let go of your gun, sit down on the other side of the booth and lay your hands flat on the table. But when you do it, do it in a relaxed way, ready?"

Merry nervously shook his head as Sam glared at him harshly.

"One… Two… Three!"

Merry placed his pistol on the table and slowly sat down on the opposite side of Sam's booth. He then, nervously, laid both his hands, flat on the tabletop, looking at the intimidating Sam, who continued to aim his gun, directly at Merry's forehead. Éowyn saw an opportunity of Merry's freedom; she raised her voice and hollered at Sam:

"All right, now let him go!"

"Éowyn, I thought you were going to be relaxed. Now when you yell at me, it makes me nervous. When I get nervous, I get scared, and when Shire rats like me get scared, that's when other Shire rats get accidentally shot!"

Éowyn was on the brink of tears as she shakily threatened:

"Just know, you hurt him, you die!"

Sam looked at the both of them. They were in love and he had sympathy for that, but he wasn't going to let them get away until he had taught both of them a couple of lessons. He then growled out at them both:

"That seems to be the current situation. But I don't want that, and you don't want that, and Old Merry over here, definitely doesn't want that. So let's see what we can work out. Now, this is the situation: normally both your arses would be dead as fried warg, but you happened to pull this tripe while I'm in a transitional period and I don't want to kill you two, I want to help you! But I'm afraid I can't give you this chest because it doesn't belong to me. Besides, I've been through too much trouble this morning on account of this chest to just hand it over to your foolish arses!"

However, suddenly, a voice rang out from the other side of the room. It was Frodo asking:

"What's going on here?"

Frodo had abandoned his pistol since it had gone off; he now had a spare crossbow that he always carried in his satchel, aimed directly at Éowyn. Éowyn began to panic, turning round and aiming at Frodo now. Sam began to panic; Frodo was not the committed professional that Sam was and he didn't want Frodo to do anything foolish or make Éowyn do anything foolish. He called over to his chum:

"It's all right Frodo! It's fine! Don't do anything! Éowyn it's cool baby, nothing's changed! We're still just talking. Tell her that we're still all right Merry!"

Merry nodded nervously and turned to the frantic Éowyn.

"It's all right Éowyn, we're still all right!"

Frodo called over to Sam:

"What on earth's going on Sam?"

"Nothing I can't handle. I want you to just stay back and don't do anything unless it's absolutely necessary!"

"Fine by me!"

"Éowyn, how are we doing baby?"

Éowyn had begun to cry now as she nervously answered:

"I have to go to an outhouse! I want to go home!"

Sam tried to reassure her as much as he could. He adopted a kinder tone and leaned over.

"Just hang in there baby, you're doing great! Merry's proud of you, and so am I; it's almost over. Now Merry, I want you to fish around in your bag and find my coin purse all right?"

"Which one is it?"

"It's the one that says 'Bad Shire Rat' on it!"

Merry turned to his sack that contained the customer's stolen coin purses; he bent down and quickly ruffled through the bag. He found the wallet and brought it out quickly. Sam looked at it and growled:

"That's my 'Bad Shire Rat'! Now take out the coins and put them in your pocket; they're yours and Éowyn's to keep. That, the other purses and the Inn's money makes this a pretty successful little score for you two!"

Frodo found this crazy transaction totally stupefying and yelled out at Sam:

"Sam, if you give this little rat all your money, I'm going to shoot him on general principal!"

Before Éowyn had the chance to scream, Sam bellowed out at Frodo, furiously:

"Frodo please, hold your ever-loving, peace!"

Éowyn began to flinch nervously, pointing the gun at Frodo, then at Sam, at Frodo and back to Sam. Sam tried again to build up her confidence in him, as much as he could.

"No he's just kidding Éowyn, he's not going to do anything. Now just point the gun at me all right; we're still all right?"

Éowyn sniffed nervously as she continued to aim her gun at Sam. Sam called over to Frodo again:

"It's all right Frodo because I'm not just giving away my money, I'm buying something with it, want to know what I'm buying with it Merry?"

"What?"

"Your life. I'm giving you that money so I don't have to kill your arse! Do you read the Middle-Earth Scrolls Merry?"

"Not regularly".

Sam cleared his throat and prepared to speak:

"Well there's this passage I've got memorized. Middle-Earth scrolls: two hundred and fifty, one thousand, seven hundred: the path, of the righteous hobbit is beset on all sides, by the inequities of goblins, and the tyranny of Sauron! Blessed is the hobbit, who in the name of a second breakfast and good ale, shepherds the weak hobbits, through the valleys of Mordor! For he is truly the Shire's keeper, and the finder, of lost rings! And I will strike down upon Sauron with great vengeance and a blue sword, those who would attempt to poison and destroy Middle-Earth! And you will know, my name is Baggins! When I lay Bilbo's vengeance upon you!"

He paused for a moment, then continued with his monologue (of sorts):

"I've been saying that tripe for years. And if you ever heard it, it usually meant your arse. I never really questioned what it meant, I just though it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to an orc before I popped a cap in his arse! But I saw some stuff this morning that made me think twice. Now I'm thinking, it could mean that you're Sauron, and I'm the righteous hobbit and Mr. Nine Millimeter here is the blue sword, protecting my righteous arse in the valleys of Mordor. Or, it could mean that I'm the blue sword, you're the righteous hobbit and it's the world that's evil like Sauron. I'd like that, but that tripe isn't the truth. The truth is, you're one of the weak hobbits, and I am the tyranny of Sauron. But I'm trying Merry, I'm trying very hard, to be a righteous hobbit!"

Sam's lesson was finally over. He un-cocked his gun and placed it flat on the tabletop. Frodo now lowered his crossbow and put it back inside his satchel. Nervously and still with tears in her eyes, Éowyn lowered her gun and waited for Merry so that they could leave. Merry slowly drew his gun back and stuffed it into his belt. He then took his sack of money and purses and turned to Éowyn. They had also gone through a lot that morning together, but now, their ordeal was finally over. Merry rose from the table and headed straight for Éowyn. The couple embraced, with Éowyn sobbing happily, they then turned to the front door of the Inn, and left without another word.

Frodo and Sam were suddenly left alone with the cowering customers. Sam would have returned to his breakfast but it was stone cold. He pushed the scone and teacup to the side of the table disappointedly. Frodo shouldered his satchel and walked over to Sam's table, he was tickled by Sam's candid behavior after such an ordeal. He then bent down to Sam and softly spoke:

"I think we should be leaving now Sam".

Sam looked up from his ruined breakfast and replied:

"That's probably a decent idea!"

Sam then stood up, shouldered his satchel, pushed his forty-five automatic pistol into his belt, picked up the chest and began (with Frodo) to head straight for the front door of the Inn. They both looked rather underdressed in such a setting, but as they marched for the exit, these two "cool as cucumber" cads looked just as cool as any elf Lord. Frodo opened the door and finally, after all they had been through that morning, the two hobbits excited the Prancing Pony Inn and set off for Rivendell and Lord Elrond as the door closed behind them…


End file.
